


One Night

by story_monger



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Acephobia, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Aromantic Castiel, Asexual Castiel, Gen, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Implied/Referenced Suicidal Thoughts, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Sex Worker Sam, arophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-19
Updated: 2016-05-19
Packaged: 2018-06-09 08:28:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 56,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6898492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/story_monger/pseuds/story_monger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel has already gone through the rigmarole of coming out as asexual and aromantic. That somehow doesn't stop a few unruly cousins from setting Castiel up with a stupidly tall sex worker named Sam. Castiel is mortified and ready to put the whole thing behind him, except he and Sam inexplicably bump into each other again a few weeks later. It marks the beginning of a friendship that ushers them into new territories, both with each other and the people around them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Horizontal Tango Goes South

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to [darcydelaney](http://darcydelaney.livejournal.com/) for her ever-reliable beta skills!
> 
> [Listen to the soundtrack here](http://8tracks.com/story_monger/one-night)

“Becky’s working the front desk today, isn’t she?” Castiel said when Gabe slammed open the door to his office.

“How’d you know?” Gabe said, followed immediately by, “Happy b-day, Cassiopia!”

“She’s going to take all the flirting seriously one day,” Castiel added, still not looking up from his computer. “You need to tell her you’re pining after someone else.”

“Cold, man. But I’m gonna forgive you because—“

“It’s my birthday, yes,” Castiel cut in. The volume of his keyboard clacking swelled. Gabe leaned on the desk, and Castiel discretely nudged a teetering pile of binders away from his cousin’s elbow.

“Listen,” Gabe said. “The band’s doing a gig at the Cage tonight. Cheap booze, completely laid back, small crowd. It’s like training wheels.”

“If it’s my birthday, that means I get to do whatever I want.”

“If it’s your birthday, that means I get to give you a present.” Gabe grinned. “And that present is contact with the rest of the human race.”

“It’s not like I don’t have friends,” Castiel pointed out.

“Sure.” Gabe ruffled his hair. “I’m picking you up at six.”

Castiel watched as Gabe winked at him, spun around on his heel, and strode out of the office like he’d just won an argument.

That afternoon, Castiel asked both his supervisors whether they perhaps had some last-minute, massive project that absolutely needed to get done that night. Linda gave him a strange look; Benny asked whether it wasn’t his birthday today.

“Um. Yes,” Castiel admitted, scuffing at the marble tiles. Above where he and Benny stood, two workers installed a Pre-Raphaelite painting with painstaking slowness.

“Ain’t kids your age supposed to be going out and getting drunk, then?” Benny said distractedly, turning to the rest of the gallery piled with crates and half finished construction work. His eyes narrowed. “You know what, this isn’t gonna work. De Morgan can’t be next to Sandys; their styles are too much at odds.”

“I can come up with a new exhibit order tonight,” Castiel tried, which only earned him raised eyebrows.

“Go home, Milton,” Benny ordered. “And tell that damn cousin of yours to stop flirting past our secretary. Becky is going to take it seriously one of these days.”

***

The Cage wasn’t what Castiel would have called classy, but the bathrooms were clean and the glasses didn’t show obvious grime. So Castiel resigned himself to his fate and allowed Gabe to station him in one of the giant, squishy couches and stick a bottle in his hand. Anna kept him company while the band got its equipment set up on the tiny stage. She smelled vaguely of stale sweat, and her hair was in a ragged ponytail.

“Hard day?” Castiel asked.

Anna shrugged. “A little,” she said, rubbing at her eyes with her free hand. “Had two major car accidents this morning and this kid fell off his ladder and shattered his leg. Screamed bloody murder the whole way back to the hospital.” Anna snorted. “Then, right at the end of my shift, we get a call from some little old man, and when we pull up, he asks us to give him a ride to the hospital for his hip surgery. We had to explain to him: ambulance, sir. Not taxi service.” Anna took a pull from her beer. “Michael called and left a message while I was driving over here.”

“Did you listen to it?”

“I already know what it says. Some bullshit about how I’m ruining my own life.” She took a second, longer pull.

“You didn’t have to come tonight,” Castiel said.

“Shut up,” Anna said warmly, throwing an arm over Castiel’s shoulder. “What, I’m supposed to miss my baby brother’s birthday?”

Castiel shrugged and watched Balthazar test the acoustics on his bass. Behind him, Gabe and Meg bickered about something to do with the evening’s lineup while Lilith perched on top of a speaker, absorbed in her phone.

The Cage steadily filled as the evening wore on. By the time the band got going with its first number, Castiel had drunk enough beers for a pleasant buzz to overtake the gnawing anxiety. He recognized enough of the faces that drifted in and out of the bar’s gloom. Mostly friends of Gabe and Balthazar’s as well as various cousins. Even Raphael appeared briefly, still dressed in her workday pantsuit. She stayed by Castiel and Anna’s side for the twenty minutes she was there, enquiring about work, telling them that Michael was busy tonight but sent his love, and glancing at the stage every so often like she still wasn’t sure how to process her little brother and cousin doing a cover of the Sex Pistols.

At one point, Hannah called, and Castiel spent nearly five minutes assuring her that college was hard enough without trying to drive halfway across the country on a school night, and no, she wasn’t a horrible person for missing her big brother’s birthday, and honestly, she wasn’t missing anything special, and did she know Michael hadn’t shown up, either? So stop worrying.

Sometime in the evening, right after Hael appeared with a round of Jell-o shots, the band finished its last number and the crowd whooped.

“Thank you, thank you guys for coming to see Heaven’s Devils. We have demo CDs in the back,” Balthazar announced.

“That name still sounds like a cheap rip-off of Hell’s Angels,” Anna muttered to Castiel.

Balthazar grinned, his lips bumping into the mic. “Listen, before we sign off tonight, I just need to send a _huge_ birthday wish to my baby cousin over there—“ Castiel groaned as the bar erupted into cheers and bright laughter, “—and I need all of you in on this, just to see how red we can make him.”

Anna was laughing as she tugged Castiel’s hands away from his face. He had to plaster a grin onto his mouth and hope it looked genuine as a roomful of family and mostly strangers jangled out a drunken, uncoordinated version of “Happy Birthday.” Finally, the last chord from Lilith’s guitar faded and the bar fell back into a loud swell of chatter.

“I’m going to smack both of them,” Castiel muttered to Anna.

“Lighten up,” she ordered, patting his shoulder and handing him another beer. “What’s family for?”

Castiel grunted.

“Hey Clarence,” a bright voice came from behind him, and a pair of lips landed on his cheek.

“Hi Meg.” Castiel turned. “You sounded very good.”

“I sounded incredible,” Meg agreed, hauling herself onto the bar stool beside Castiel’s. “Vodka,” she told the bartender, then flashed Castiel a wide smile. “You handled that like a trooper; I’m proud of you.”

Gabe, Lilith, and Balthazar arrived then, and Castiel’s world descended into loud talking, alcohol, and eventually a half attempt at dancing, courtesy of Meg.

Castiel couldn’t have guessed what time it was when someone led him outside, and the cool February air cleared his head a little. He stared unseeingly at the orange glow of a streetlight as voices bubbled somewhere behind him. He heard snatches of “—said he’d be there—“ and “—not too drunk, is he?”

Before Castiel could turn and ask what they were talking about, he was being shepherded into a car that smelled like Meg’s. Gabe sat beside him and laughed too loud. Castiel rested his temple against the cool car window and closed his eyes. Some blurred time later, the car rolled to a halt, and Gabe shook Castiel’s arm.

“C’mon,” he said. “Get on out.” Castiel peeled his eyes open and frowned at the scene outside the window.

“This isn’t my house,” he said.

“It’s your last present,” Balthazar called from the front seat. “We all pitched in!”

Castiel squinted at the line of doors and slowly pieced together that he was looking at a motel. That…that wasn’t a good sign, and yet Castiel’s brain was too fuzzy to come up with a good reason why.

The car door opened, and Meg helped him out. “Here,” she said, pressing a water bottle into his hand. “Just relax, okay? He came on a recommendation from Ruby, and she has great taste. He’s supposed to be really sweet.”

“What?” Castiel asked dumbly, but by then Meg was steering him toward one of the doors. It wasn’t a _nice_ door. Faded by sun, a few rust spots. Castiel didn’t want to go past it. Balthazar appeared to pop it open, and the darkness inside made Castiel nearly buck against Meg’s grip.

“Hey, hey,” she muttered. “I swear, Clarence, you’ll be okay. Don’t do anything if you don’t want to, but give him a chance.”

“Give _who_ a chance?” Castiel asked, his voice coming out a little wild.

“You crazy kids have fun,” Gabe said. Meg’s hands disappeared, and Castiel found himself nudged through the door. It clicked shut behind him, leaving him in shadow. He gripped his water bottle and squinted into the dark motel room. He wasn’t alone; he could _tell_. There was someone breathing in there. A mattress squealed.

“Shit!” Castiel yelped and chucked his water bottle in the direction of the noise. He heard a _thunk_ followed by an, “Ow.”

He shouldn’t have thrown his water bottle, Castiel thought frantically. He’d lost his only weapon, and now this person was going to murder him and hide his body parts somewhere on the side of the highway.

The person hissed, and the mattress groaned again. “You play baseball or something?” a man’s voice asked.

“No,” Castiel replied automatically. He snapped his mouth shut.

“You should consider it.” A shift of bed sheets, a click of a lamp switch, and Castiel found himself staring at a man with shoulder-length hair and far too much leg sitting on the bed. He wore a simple button-down and dark, fitted jeans, and he was rubbing at his forehead.

“Who are you?” Castiel demanded, his voice coming out in a slight rasp.

“You’re Castiel Milton?” the man asked, his hand dropping.

“…yes.”

The man nodded. “You’re in the right place.” He studied the expression on Castiel’s face. “Hey, did they not tell you…they said they’d let you know before.”

“What?”

“Uh. I’m your birthday present.” The man shrugged and grinned, and he had a lovely grin, but Castiel didn’t have the chance to process that.

“You’re my…” It clicked with a sickening thud in Castiel’s brain. He looked again at the shady motel room, at the tall man with the dark jeans, and any fuzziness in his head evaporated.

“I,” he said in a flat voice, “am going. To murder them.” The man’s grin dropped a fraction. “Listen,” Castiel said, drawing himself up and doing his best to look dignified. “I’m going to have to apologize. My idiot cousins clearly thought this was a fantastic idea, and whatever they told you, I can assure you they were probably lying—“

“They told me I needed to de-virginize you.” The man paused, and the edge of his mouth quirked. “Their words, not mine.”

“Right.” Castiel’s face flushed, and he hoped the room was dim enough to conceal it. “Well, like I said, they’re idiots, and I’m sorry you got dragged into the middle of all this—“

“They told me that you like to play hard to get.” The man stood, and oh lord, he was _tall_. He was way, _way_ too tall. Castiel’s mouth went dry and he would have taken a step back if he wasn’t already bumped up against the door.

“Don’t,” he tried, but his voice left him halfway through, and instead he made a thin exhale. The man froze, his fingers hovering over the top button of his shirt. For several excruciating seconds, they stared at one another through the dim, muddy lamplight.

“Oh,” the man said, his voice suddenly an octave higher. “Oh, hell, I’m sorry, I thought—hell.” His hands dropped from his shirt and instead starting hovering toward Castiel. “Do you need to sit down?” he asked. “You look pale. You should sit.”

Castiel blinked then nodded once. He pushed himself from the door and managed a somewhat straight line toward the single queen bed. He heard the man shuffling around, and a moment later a water bottle dropped into his lap. The water bottle he’d thrown.

“I’m sorry,” the man said, and Castiel dragged his head up to find him wiping his hands on his jeans. “Listen, I still have the cash. I’ll give that back, and then I can go and…they told me…I really am sorry.”

“Hang on,” Castiel said. He unscrewed the bottle cap and took a long sip of tepid water. When he lowered the bottle, he found the man staring at him with what resembled full-blown anxiety. “What’s your name?” Castiel asked.

The man straightened. “Sam,” he said.

“Did you drive here?”

Sam shook his head. “Bus. Are you sure you’re okay?”

Castiel glanced at the clock and winced; it was nearing three in the morning. “Not really,” he said, reaching for his back pocket. “Ok, I’m calling—“ His jeans were flat. Castiel froze, then slapped at his pockets as if to make his phone or wallet magically appear, but that got him nowhere. Without speaking, Castiel stumbled to his feet and moved to the door. When he flung it open, the parking lot was dark and silent with no sign of Meg’s car.

“They took my stuff,” Castiel said in a flat voice. He turned to Sam. “I can’t—they took it.”

“Here.” Sam fished a cracked phone from his pocket, unlocked it, and handed it over. Castiel grabbed it before thinking and ducked outside. He folded his arms against the chill as he dialed Anna’s number. When he got her voicemail, he made a low, pathetic sound that he hoped Sam didn’t hear.

“Anna,” he said when the tone beeped. “Listen, Gabe and Balthazar and Meg ambushed me, and now I’m at…some motel. Fuck, I don’t even know where.”

“We’re on the corner of Jackson and Clayton,” Sam said from the doorway. Castiel whirled around, and Sam ducked back into the motel room with a grimace. Castiel stared after him for a moment.

“Right,” he said. “Corner of Jackson and Clayton. They took my phone and wallet, Anna. I, uh. Please come pick me up. Seriously, please come.”

Castiel hung up, thought for a moment, then tried Meg’s, Gabe’s, and Balthazar’s numbers. None of them answered, the bastards. After that, he was temped to start calling cousins, except he wasn’t keen on any of them catching wind of his situation.

“No one awake?” Sam asked when Castiel reentered the room and handed the phone back.

“Um. No.”

“That’s fine. Listen, I know this place isn’t great, but it has a bed and running water and it’s paid for. You go ahead and sleep here, and I’m sure one of your friends will be here in the morning. I’ll head home.”

“They’re not my friends.” Castiel’s eyes narrowed. “The buses aren’t running at this hour.”

“No, yeah, I know. I’ll just…go to the nearest corner and call a cab. Or walk home; it’s not that far.”

“You’re going to get mugged,” Castiel said. Sam tilted his head, and Castiel squeezed his eyes shut. “I mean, you know, if a bunch of them gang up on you. If one person hangs off each your shoulders, I think the third person could slip in there and pick your pockets.”

“This sounds like an elaborate mugging,” Sam said. A grin hid somewhere in his voice.

“I’m drunk,” Castiel said. “And deeply…deeply bewildered, to be honest. I should be home right now and instead I’m _here_ with—“ He stopped then because he knew, despite everything, that he shouldn’t be blaming the seven-foot call boy. Hell, he’d been the only one so far to act decent.

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” Sam said. He grinned again, and this time enough of Castiel’s brain was on board to note that it was, in fact, a very nice grin.

“You shouldn’t go,” Castiel heard himself say. “Or, I mean, call the cab and wait here for it. It’s also cold out there. So you’d be cold and mugged.”

Sam exhaled a light laugh but didn’t actually make a move to pull his phone out. “I’ll just go to the corner,” he said.

Castiel frowned. “Is this because I hit you with my bottle? I swear I was acting out of self defense.”

“No, it’s really—“

“Or because I don’t want to have sex with you?” Castiel barreled forward, clearly having lost control of the entire situation. “Because it’s honestly not you because obviously you’re very good looking it’s more like I’m not…” He waved an arm as if that translated into anything.

“Right.” Sam nodded. “Here, I apologize again, and I’ll just wait on the corner. Your money’s on the bedside table.” Castiel glanced over and found a small pile of bills. Which, hang on, that was money.

“That’s not even my money, that’s my dumb cousins’ money,” Castiel realized out loud. “Why didn’t you say you had this?”

Sam furrowed his brow. “I did?”

“This solves everything.” Castiel went across the room and scooped up the pile, sifting through it and finding several twenties and tens. Lots of them, in fact. He glanced at Sam, who had gone red around the ears.

“Here,” Castiel said, and split the pile into what he guessed were even halves. He shoved one half toward Sam. “They still owe me a birthday present, so let’s go ahead and take it. Do you know any good burger joints still open?”

***

It was the greasiest greasy spoon diner that Castiel had ever set foot in. He could see the sheen floating on the top of his coffee.

“They say not to mix alcohol and caffeine,” Castiel said, scooting his mug a few inches to the left. On the bar stool beside him, Sam took a large swallow from his mug and slapped it down like he’d just taken a shot.

“Might not be caffeine,” he said in a hoarse voice. “Might possibly be jet fuel.” Before Castiel had a chance to crack a smile, the waiter arrived to slide two plates in front of them. The smell of grilled red meat hit Castiel like a ton of bricks, and he felt for the bottle of ketchup on autopilot.

He and Sam ate in silence, which suited Castiel fine. He was finally starting to sober to the point that he could question his judgment in gallivanting around town with the guy Gabe, Meg, and Balthazar had hoped would take his virginity. Castiel cast a sidelong look at Sam taking gigantic bites of his turkey club and felt a small frown run across his face. His eyes then shifted down to the battered backpack sitting at the base of Sam’s bar stool. It was half open, and Castiel could see the edge of a thick textbook. He craned his neck to try and read the title.

“I’m in law school. Second year.” Castiel dragged his eyes up. Sam was wiping mustard from his fingers. “I don’t usually bring my school stuff to work, but I was told I might be waiting for a while, and I have an exam on Friday.”

“Yeah,” Castiel said. He sensed this was an opening for a polite round of conversation wherein he’d ask Sam what kind of lawyer he wanted to be and how he’d gotten into it. But the words got mucked up on the way from his brain to his mouth, as per usual. “What else did they tell you?” he asked.

Sam gave him a smile through his chewing. “I’m a little embarrassed to say it at this point,” he said.

“Do it before I sober up completely.”

“Yeah, okay,” Sam snorted, leaning back. “Um, I guess Ruby gave my number to her sister. Megan?”

“Meg.”

“Right. So she called me about a week ago and, uh…” Sam huffed and shook his head. “Said she had a really good friend who needed to get laid.”

Castiel didn’t say anything, but his fingers curled in, his nails digging into his palms.

“Then I guess she got your other friends—“

“Not friends,” Castiel cut in. “Cousins. Idiot cousins.”

“Right. Your cousins on speakerphone with her, and uh, told me you were a virgin? Who was too insecure to get any?” Sam glanced at Castiel with raised eyebrows as if waiting for a comment, but received none. “So they sort of told me that you’d act like you didn’t want it, but that you were desperate for it.” He exhaled hard and leaned back. “You know, saying it out loud, I’m not sure why I believed them.”

“It was the combined forces of Meg, Gabe, and Balthazar,” Castiel said dully, flicking at a salt packet. He suddenly wasn’t hungry for the remaining third of his burger. “They could each talk their way into the Oval Office, I bet.”

Sam hacked out a laugh, and Castiel glanced over, startled.

“My brother’s like that,” Sam said. “So, anyway, I’m sorry again.”

“No, it’s…” Castiel grasped for the right word then lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “It is what it is.”

Sam tilted his head and his lips parted, but something heavy had settled into Castiel’s bones, and he stood suddenly enough to bang his knee against the counter.

“Here.” He slid his plate in Sam’s direction. “You have the rest.” Sam ticked his head down at the remaining burger. “And here,” Castiel said after a beat. He fetched the wad of bills from his pocket, extracted $40 to cover a ride home, then held the rest out to Sam.

“Dude, no, I can’t,” he protested.

“You’re the one in law school, not me,” Castiel said. His words seemed to be jumbling on the way out. His heart rate starting to pick up, he leaned over and stuffed the wad into Sam’s front pocket. “Bye,” he said before turning and hustling toward the diner’s door.


	2. The Babysitting of the 19th Century

Castiel had a whole tirade planned out for Meg, Gabe, and Balthazar. It was very good. It had ethos and logic and just enough pathetic undertones to elicit sympathy and horrible guilt for a poor decision.

When a knock came at his door a little after 3 p.m. the next afternoon, Castiel was dozing on the couch with cooking shows running in the background. He woke up to the disorienting sensation of Ming Tsai explaining how to store ginger while Meg’s voice floated over from the front door. He had no idea what she was saying.

A second later, the lock grinded open and Meg’s voice became clearer.

“—making sure you’re alive. Oh, hey! You are; good job.”

Castiel gave her a baleful look from his position on the couch. He didn’t think it was that effective because Meg strode over and plopped into the nest of blankets Castiel had accidentally built.

“Your stuff,” she said, dumping a phone and wallet into his lap. “We didn’t do anything with them.”

“My background is different,” Castiel said, picking up his phone. He frowned. “How do you know my passcode?”

“Birthdays don’t make good security; I’m pretty sure I’ve told you that. We didn’t do anything serious.”

“Gabe’s listed in my contacts as, ‘Candy Ass.’”

“Right, see? Nothing serious. So.” Castiel lifted his head and realized Meg was grinning so wide he could catch sight of her molars. “Anything to share?”

He’d _had_ a tirade to share, but when Castiel went looking for it he mostly found dim flickering and a lack of sleep.

“That was nasty of you. All of you,” he said, letting his phone drop back into his lap. He leaned back into the couch, his hands coming up to scrub his face.

“What?” Meg leaned forward. “ _Cla-rence_ , no, don’t say that.”

“Why not?” Castiel snapped. “You know how I feel about sex, so your grand idea is to set me up with a _prostitute_? One who’s seven-foot something, by the way.”

Meg was silent. “Ruby said he was—”

“No, I know; he was fine. Really nice, actually, which is good for you. If he’d been more of a jerk...” Castiel shook his head and dropped his hands. Beside him, Meg made a deep scoff and brought up her legs to cross them.

“So you did nothing,” she said. “A couple hundred dollars, and you sent him home, didn’t you?”

“We went to a burger place,” Castiel muttered. “And I used some of the money to get a cab home. Because, you know, I had no money of my own.”

“We were trying to be helpful,” Meg said to the TV, where Ming was sautéing chicken.

“Stop, then,” Castiel said. Meg pursed her lips.

“You know, I’m not like Gabe or Balthazar,” she said. “I can accept that people are asexual and aromantic.”

“Okay?”

“But you’ve never even let yourself _try_ ,” Meg said with a tinge of annoyance, turning to face him. “You run away from it. It’s like, how can you know you hate all that if you refuse to even _try_?”

“I don’t hate it,” Castiel said.

“You sure as hell turn your nose up every time someone dares to mention they have a sex life. Or a dating life, for that matter. I mean, what is it? Did something traumatic happen that no one knows about? You’re embarrassed you’ve reached this point in your life and done nothing? Because if that’s it—“

“You can stop talking now.”

“You _know_ I’d take care of you, Cas,” Meg barreled forward. “I’d make it amazing if you’d trust me for a minute.”

Castiel leveled a look at her. “Of course I trust you,” he said. “I just don’t want it.”

Meg looked at him sidelong and heaved a long, hard sigh. “I honestly thought we’d figured it out this time,” she said.

“What?”

“Yeah, maybe you needed someone who would be a professional about it,” Meg said with a shrug. “No emotional ties, no need to see them ever again.”

Castiel fiddled with the edge of his blanket. “I guess it was a…a thought that counts sort of present.”

Meg exhaled hard again and gazed at Ming revealing a final dish of sesame-ginger chicken. Castiel watched her for a long moment, then resigned himself to the fact that she was set on having a sulk on his couch.

Neither spoke for the rest of the show, and when Meg asked whether Castiel wanted to order Chinese food, she said it as if the previous conversation hadn’t happened.

***

February dissolved into March. Someone—probably Benny—cottoned Becky on to the fact that Gabe really shouldn’t be allowed into the museum’s office space, so Castiel’s number of unneeded interruptions nosedived. It was just as well; Castiel hadn’t warmed to the idea of talking to Gabe for the time being. Not that the interruptions didn’t come from other sectors. Take, for example, the Wednesday that Charlie appeared at his office door with a clipboard and far too wide a smile.

“What,” Castiel said in a cagey voice, his hands freezing over his keyboard.

“And a top ‘o the morning to you too, sunshine.” Charlie leaned forward. “Good news; you’re volunteering to help with the Pre-Raphaelite guided tours today.”

“No, I’m not.”

Charlie glanced at her clipboard. “We have you for the 10 a.m., 1 p.m., and 3 p.m. time slots.”

“Why are you doing this?” Castiel said, voice blank. “I thought we have docents for tours.”

“Not when one of the docents has a fender bender on the way here,” Charlie said. “Sorry, man, but Linda’s in Chicago and Benny’s already got a packed schedule. It’s all you.”

“I’m ancient art.” Castiel gestured around his office. “I don’t deal with …what century are these paintings from, the 19th? They’re infants.”

“Good, then you’re babysitting.” Charlie rolled out of the office with her lanyard swinging. A second later, she popped her head back in. “I need you to acknowledge how perfectly that turned out.”

Castiel braced his elbows on the desk and splayed one hand across his forehead. “Yeah,” he said after a moment. “That was pretty good.” Charlie pumped a fist and disappeared from view.

Castiel looked at his computer. 9:47 a.m.

In all honesty, Castiel had been helping Benny with the exhibit for enough months that he’d gleaned something about the major artists and their works. He grabbed one of the exhibit’s pamphlets on his way through the main hall, and by the time he had a small crowd of visitors at the tour’s starting point, felt equipped enough to bullshit his way through it. Barring a few questions from enthusiasts, the rest of the day’s babysitting went as smoothly as he could expect.

At the tail end of his 3 p.m. tour, Castiel broke free for his office. He took a shortcut through the hall of Sumerian art and was just two galleries away from the elevator that would take him down to the office level when he caught sight of long hair and longer legs.

Castiel did an about face without thinking. This part of the museum was sparse and quiet, and Castiel doubted he could jog away without making a ruckus. He stationed himself between a display of stone masks and a reconstructed statue and, like an idiot, hoped Sam would continue into another gallery.

Except of course not, because a second later steady, heavy steps grew louder. Castiel didn’t have time to consider ducking away before Sam appeared through the entryway. Castiel stared; Sam paused, turned his head, and his eyes widened.

“Oh, geeze. Hey!” he said, like they were trying to be old buddies instead of a pair of people who’d once eaten at a greasy spoon diner as ass o’clock in the morning because a couple of misguided do-gooders hoped they’d do the horizontal tango.

“Hi,” Castiel replied. He remembered to smile.

“Wow, this is wild,” Sam continued, voice too bright. “What’re the chances, huh?”

“Pretty good. I work here.” No, that probably wasn’t the right thing to say.

“Seriously?” Something genuine entered Sam’s voice. “That’s awesome.”

“Yeah.” Castiel bobbed his head. He was scrambling, so he said, “Yeah,” again. After that came a long stretch of horrible silence in which Castiel watched Sam bend and unbend his museum map.

“Ok, listen,” Sam said, his voice lower. “I’m sorry, I don’t usually bump into clients in public. Well, I did once and she pretty much ignored me. And I didn’t try to go up to her and say hello, so I’m not sure why I’ve done that just now because I know you don’t want to talk to me so—“ He cut himself off, looking pained. “Right. So. Bye. Sorry.”

Castiel stared as Sam backed away, a plastic grin in place, and headed for the entryway. When Sam disappeared from view, Castiel slowly peeled himself from his spot and headed for the elevator. He fiddled with his lanyard as the elevator’s cables creaked to bring the car up. He stepped inside and pushed the button for the lower levels. He stuck his hands in his pockets and jangled the loose change and keys, watching the digital numbers slowly shift. When the doors slid open, he stepped out and found Becky passing him with a tray of mail.

“Hey,” she greeted in a bright voice. “How’d the tours go?”

“Um.” Castiel frowned, and his hands finally went still. Becky’s smile ticked down the longer Castiel squinted at her. “Hang on,” he said then spun around on his heel and jabbed at the elevator button.

Two minutes later, he was jogging through the galleries while trying to look like he was merely speed walking. He found Sam in the tiny medieval gallery. He sat on the single bench, his battered backpack between his feet, staring at a display of armor and weapons from the Second Crusade. Castiel’s footsteps made him turn his head then raise his eyebrows.

Castiel cleared his throat. “I get an employee discount at the museum café,” he said. “Have you eaten yet?”

Sam’s lips parted. Then he closed them and one side twitched up.

***

The café’s salads were limp, served in Styrofoam bowls and covered in plastic wrap. Castiel thought to apologize for it, but Sam seemed content as he drizzled Italian dressing from a small package over his iceberg lettuce. Castiel gave an inordinate amount of attention to folding back the cellophane on his turkey wrap.

“So you really do work here?” Sam asked, picking up his fork and sifting it through the salad.

“Yes,” Castiel nodded. “Curator of ancient art.”

“That’s so cool. Do you do archaeology?” Sam asked.

“I’ve done a few trips out in the field; archaeology was my minor in college.” Castiel picked at one end of his wrap. “But for this job, I mainly go to auctions and coordinate with other museum systems to get items on loan and convince traveling exhibits to come here.” He shrugged. “Mostly office work.”

“Dude, I’d love working here.” Sam scooped a forkful of salad into his mouth. “Dean, my brother, he used to bring me here on free admission days. We liked the room with the knight stuff the best.”

“Our medieval exhibit is anemic,” Castiel said before his brain caught up. Sam gave him an unreadable expression, then shrugged and grinned.

“Two snot-nosed kids didn’t know any better.”

Castiel didn’t realize he was grinning back for several seconds, after which he took a massive bite of his wrap.

“So you put together the medieval and Egyptian exhibits and all that?” Sam asked.

“Mmph,” Castiel managed. He swallowed. “My predecessor did those. I’ve updated the Aboriginal and African galleries and put together the Sumerian and Assyrian galleries. I like Mesopotamia.” He paused. “But my thesis was in early Judeo-Christian art. When the funding comes around, I’d like to put together a special exhibit on the ties between Mesopotamian polytheism and Judeo-Christian iconography. I mean, Linda keeps saying it’s my turn next, but let’s face it, A.D. European paintings and Romans and Egyptians are the crowd pleasers.”

Sam nodded, and Castiel thought he saw something like amusement in his expression. He had no idea whether to take it as a positive or negative.

“Are you here for a school assignment?” Castiel asked, and he probably came off as brusque.

“Nah, I just needed a break.” Sam kicked at his backpack. “Midterms.”

Castiel wrinkled his nose. “I remember those.” Then, because he recalled how last time he’d missed the opportunity to be a polite conversationalist, he asked, “What are you going to specialize in?”

“Family law,” Sam said, his eyes brightening. “Child care. Foster kids, adoption, that sort of thing.”

“Oh.” Castiel tilted his head. “That sounds…”

“Evil?”

“What?” Castiel blinked. “How is it evil?”

“Some people imagine that I’m going to be out there dragging kids from their homes and throwing them into foster care hell.” Sam pursed his lips, toying with his salad. Castiel sensed enough not to say anything. “But my brother and I saw the inside of the social welfare system way too many times,” Sam continued. “I feel like I know what these kids are going through. How scary it can be. And how much everyone can end up ignoring them, weirdly enough. I guess I want to make sure the kids are the priority, no matter how messy the divorce or problematic the parent.”

Sam bent back over the Styrofoam bowl, and Castiel studied the way his hair fell over his shoulders.

“I hope you succeed, then,” Castiel said. It sounded trite, but Sam’s smile looked real.

“Thanks. I hope you do, too.”

***

Castiel was still circling the events of the day, not quite looking them in the eye, on the drive home. He was willing to dismiss it as a lucid fever dream. Too much Pre-Raphaelite in one day, maybe. When his phone vibrated in the cup holder where he’d dumped it, it took him a little too long to fumble it to his ear.

“Heyyy,” came Anna’s bright voice. “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” Castiel said automatically, then frowned at the road. Was eating lunch with a man you’d met once before the sort of thing he was supposed to tell people about?

“Awesome, that means you’re coming to that place I like and having dinner with me.”

“Which place?”

“The place. The one place.” Castiel didn’t speak. “With the shark on the wall.”

“Ah,” Castiel said. “Anna, that’s on the other side of town.”

“Yes, but you love me, so you’ll make the drive to come have dinner with me and catch up.”

“I saw you…”

“At your birthday, which was at least a month and a half ago. C’mon, I’m buying.”

Castiel heaved a sigh and flipped his blinker. “Fine,” he said. “Actually, maybe it’s… I have something to ask you about.”

“Really?” Anna’s voice took on an edge of sharp interest. “What kind of thing?”

“I’ll tell you when I get there.” Castiel hung up and dumped his phone into the passenger seat before Anna could protest.

Anna had predictably chosen the booth beneath the giant plasticized shark. When Castiel slid in across from her, he automatically glanced up at it with apprehension.

“I ordered you a water,” Anna said, and splayed her hands on the Formica tabletop. “So, I want you to know that I’m only doing this because I know how you work.”

“I’m sorry?” Castiel said around a chip. At that moment, the waitress swung by and deposited four sweating glasses of water in front of them.

“Still waiting on the rest of the party?” she asked, and Anna nodded with a half smile. Castiel squinted at her as the waitress breezed away.

“Who?” he asked.

“Like I said, this is only because—“

“Hey nerds,” came a familiar voice and a strong whiff of both weed and sugar. A second later, Gabe had crowded in beside Anna while Balthazar did the same to Castiel. He snapped his head in Anna’s direction and tried hard to communicate, “Betrayer” via eyebrow and a scrunched mouth. She diplomatically ignored him.

“Sorry we’re late,” Gabe was saying, snatching a handful of chips. “Lilith missed practice _again_ , so we had to convince Ruby to fill in and that took way too long.”

“No chips until I get this out,” Anna ordered, grabbing the basket and placing it in her lap.

“What gives?” Balthazar protested. Anna tossed her head back, making her red hair catch the dim light.

“You two did something shitty to Cas,” she said, pointing to Gabe first, then Balthazar. “He left me a voicemail at three in the morning, did you know that? And I don’t honestly care who came up with the idea, the point is you both got in on it.” She now had all three men staring at her. “You knew how Castiel was going to take that, and you owe him an apology. Then you,” she pointed to Castiel, “can forgive them and start talking to them again.”

“Y’all ready to order?” the waitress asked. All four looked up.

“Give us a minute,” Anna said, and the waitress disappeared with a small sigh. Gabe seemed mildly exasperated while Balthazar glanced at Castiel, looking thoughtful.

“Sure,” he said. He tossed an arm over Castiel’s shoulder. “Cassie, we were absolute wankers, even though our hearts were in the right place.” Anna pursed her lips. “And I’m very, very sorry. From the bottom of my heart.”

Balthazar withdrew his arm from Castiel’s shoulder and gestured to Gabe. Gabe blinked once, glanced at Anna, then leaned forward on crossed arms.

“Sorry.”

Anna looked to Castiel, who shrugged with a small smile. It was as good as he’d get.

“Thank you,” he said, suddenly focused on his wrapped silverware.

“There we go,” Anna said, tossing the chip basket back into the center of the table.

“Now this is all very sweet of you,” Balthazar said, reaching for a handful. “But why wasn’t Meg brought here to get her finger wagging?”

“I gave her the finger wagging when she explained to me why I’d gotten a voicemail from Cas asking me to pick him up,” Anna said, taking her own handful of chips. “Besides, she’s not family, so I don’t have the same jurisdiction over her.”

“You don’t have jurisdiction over us,” Gabe said. “We’re both older.” Anna shot him a look, and Gabe grinned through his mouthful of chips and salsa. Castiel could feel himself relaxing into the vinyl cushions.

Dinner progressed comfortably, the way Castiel recognized from countless Thanksgivings and birthdays and nights like this one, when a few cousins would call one another up and organize something at the nearest bar. Anna complained about how much of her paycheck this month had gone toward paying back Michael’s loans; Gabe and Balthazar whined more about how unreliable Lilith had become of late, and that if she weren’t so talented with a guitar, they’d have kicked her out already. It helped Castiel to remember that he still had this. He even started warming to the idea of sharing the story of his late night burger run and later his lunch with Sam. He imagined how Gabe and Anna would roar with laughter, how Balthazar would say something understated and witty.

“But you have to admit,” Balthazar said after most of their plates had been cleaned and they were resorting to stealing one another’s french fries, “we could have done much worse when it came to picking a man whore for Cassie.”

Castiel’s face flew into a small frown.

“Yeah, I heard,” Anna said dryly, picking over the remains of her fajita. “You guys managed to find Sasquatch.”

“But Ruby _swore_ he’d be good,” Gabe protested. “Cassie, wasn’t he good? Well, not that you got to figure out in _that_ way but—“

“He was kind,” Castiel said in a small voice. He had a _name_ , Castiel wanted to add.

“I don’t care how nice he was, it was still a bogus idea from the beginning,” Anna said.

“We got it, Ginger,” Gabe groaned, tilting his head back.

“Castiel will come to that when he’s found the right someone,” Anna continued. “Not because his cousins paid anyone.”

Castiel let the hand holding a french fry sink back to his plate.

“That was touching, mother, that really was,” Balthazar said.

“Listen, Cas, when you get lucky, you got to tell us,” Gabe said, leaning across the table. “We’ll throw you the biggest bash.” Castiel nodded and managed a thin smile.

Later, when they all shuffled toward the front door, while Gabe scooped handfuls of mints from the front desk, Anna turned to Castiel.

“Didn’t you have something you wanted to tell me?” she asked. Castiel shrugged on his jacket.

“No.”

***

Sam showed up in the Native American gallery a week later. Somehow, part of Castiel had expected him. He hovered at the gallery’s entryway and watched Sam examine a collection of agee arrowheads.

“I got in a bidding war with some big wig from Florida for those,” Castiel said. Sam straightened and his eyes crinkled at their edges.

“Did it end up in a brawl?” he asked.

“No, but after I won, he told me to stick them up my ass.”

Sam laughed and adjusted his backpack on his shoulders. “So, I feel like I owe you lunch at this point.”

“Do you?” Castiel asked. He crossed his arms and leaned back slightly. “I didn’t pay for you either time.”

“Sure.” Sam’s hand came up to rub at the back of his neck. “But if we’re talking about, uh, inviting people out.”

Castiel couldn’t for the life of him tell whether the adrenaline rocketing through his system was a positive or negative reaction. Whether he actually wanted to say yes or turn tail and retreat to his office. He didn’t think Anna or Meg or Gabe would be sweating puddles into the pits of their shirts. God, he wasn’t used to this at all. He had no idea what he was supposed to say or how to say it or whether his inklings were correct and this was turning into a series of…of dates or something.

Sam was watching him, and the longer Castiel remained silent, the more he could see the little collapses in Sam’s expression. His mouth staging a retreat from that grin, his shoulders starting to curl in.

“Okay,” Castiel said. He was many things, but he had no intention of adding ‘heartless’ to the list.


	3. The Anemic Medieval Exhibit

That week, Sam took him to a hole in the wall café three blocks away from the museum, on a street Castiel had never set foot on. Sam told him it was the hidden location of the best sweet potato fries in the city. By the end of it, Castiel had to concur.

The next week, Castiel introduced Sam to Garth and his hotdog cart and his student discounts.

The week after that, it was raining buckets so they stayed in the museum’s cafeteria and afterward wandered the early Roman art galleries while Castiel gave an abridged version of his master’s thesis. Sam listened the entire time, and when he interrupted, it was to ask relevant questions. Castiel walked back to his office feeling a little weightless after that one.

They didn’t get around to exchanging phone numbers, which Castiel had understood was a mile marker in relationships — Sam just showed up in one of the galleries every Wednesday, and it became a game to see where Castiel would find him. Sam never said a word about meeting somewhere after work hours or going back to anyone’s apartment. No one ever leaned forward or rested a hand on anyone’s knee, and if there were other flirting signs that didn’t appear in rom coms, then Castiel didn’t catch them either. It was just…two people having lunch and talking about whatever they liked. It was odd in how it could be both mundane and quietly thrilling.

It went on for enough weeks that Castiel stopped keeping count. Until one Wednesday in late April, Castiel realized that he’d done two whole circuits of the galleries and not seen anyone taller than six feet. When one of the museum attendants finally asked Castiel if he needed help with something, he waved them off and retreated to his office.

He imagined car accidents and falling construction material and that mugging Castiel had warned him about. A search of the local news gave no results for abnormally tall men in horrible accidents, and he was on the verge of calling Anna in case she’d seen anything before he came to his senses. Obviously, Sam had grown busy. Or bored of these lunches that never went anywhere. Probably both.

Castiel opened up an expense report he’d been putting off and tried to muffle his brain with spreadsheets. He’d just started sinking into the blessed blankness of accounting when his desk phone rang. He switched it to speaker without looking.

“Yeah?”

“Cas,” Becky’s voice crackled through. “There’s a Mr. Winchester on the line who says he’d like to speak with you. Should I put him through?” Castiel rattled his fingers against the desk, trying to wrack his brains for any Winchesters he might know.

“What does he want?” Castiel asked.

“He says it’s personal.”

“It’s the wrong number,” Castiel said. Becky made an affirmative noise and clicked off. The phone rang again ten seconds later.

“Hi, Cas, it’s me again,” Becky said. “He says to tell you it’s Sam.”

Castiel buried his face in one hand.

“Cas?”

“Yeah, put him through.”

Castiel still had his face in his hand when he picked up the phone and Sam’s voice came through the line, accompanied by a clatter of conversation and silverware clinking.

“Hello?” Sam tried.

“I can’t believe,” Castiel said, “that I didn’t know your last name.”

“You didn’t?” Sam sounded like he was laughing. “Hey, it’s okay. I never wear a little ID badge like you do.”

“I’m sorry, Sam.”

“I’m the one calling to apologize,” Sam said. “For not showing up today. I have finals coming down the pipe, and—” He was cut off by a huge yawn.

“Are you all right?” Castiel asked.

“I worked late last night. But yeah. Finals.”

“Of course,” Castiel said. Someone who must have been near to Sam let loose a loud guffaw. “Where are you?”

“A café,” Sam said, his voice tighter. There was a shuffle. “The library’s completely full, and my apartment’s…not the sort of place to study. So, you know, you take what you can get.”

“You could come to my office and work,” Castiel said. He rolled in his lips and flicked at a pen sitting on his desk.

“Seriously?” Sam asked after several seconds of silence. “Would you get in trouble?”

“Linda and Benny don’t care,” Castiel said. “And it’s quiet here, expect for when Charlie comes by, but she’s also entertaining, so.”

Another several seconds. “If you’re serious, then yeah, thank you.” The relief in Sam’s voice was palpable, and it made Castiel’s face grow warm.

***

Sam’s eyes widened when Castiel led him into his office.

“This is all yours?” he asked.

Castiel stuck his hands in his pockets and examined the glorified walk-in closet.

“Yes?” he tried.

“No, I mean…” Sam trailed off and strode toward a line of ceiling-high shelves stuffed with textbooks, old journals of art history and a sundry collection of mementos. His fingers hovered over a group of stone figurines from Sudan, then to a small bowl full of Phoenician coins.

“These aren’t real, are they?” he asked.

“No, the originals are on display somewhere,” Castiel said, walking over. “Reconstructions. I’ve tried to get representations from as many ancient civilizations as I can.”

Sam let his hand drop and gazed at the rest of the room, at the wallpaper of maps depicting kingdoms and empires long since dissolved into history, a life-size image of the Code of Hammurabi, a poster diagramming the major Chinese dynasties. Castiel shifted his weight from foot to foot. At last, Sam returned his attention to him.

“Yeah, I can believe this is your office,” he said. The words didn’t seem to have any sort of insult buried in them, so Castiel grinned.

“So.” He tapped his foot against a small table he’d liberated from the storage closet several years ago. “Let me get my things cleared off, and you can work here.”

Sam helped him pile the collection of binders and papers in a corner of the office, and a few minutes later Castiel sank into his chair while Sam bent over his laptop with a focused expression already setting in. Castiel watched for a moment; he liked how wrinkles appeared on Sam’s brow.

The afternoon passed in a susurrus of keyboards clacking, paper shifting, a few words exchanged about whether the temperature was okay and if any extra pens were available. At one point, Benny popped his head in, and Sam froze when his eyes landed on him.

“Benny,” Castiel said, half rising. “This is Sam. He’s my—friend.”

“I’m using Castiel’s office to study,” Sam added. Benny looked between the two of them, something amused developing behind his beard.

“That’s smart,” Benny said. “We keep it quiet around here.” He took a few steps into the room and held out a hand. “I’m Benny Lafitte, head curator.”

“And my boss,” Castiel added.

“Damn straight. College student?” he asked Sam.

“Law student,” Sam replied, pumping his hand. “You have a really amazing museum here, Mr. Lafitte.”

Benny laughed. “You can really slather it on, can’t yah?” Castiel drifted back into his seat as Benny turned to him. “I came in to tell you that we have that delivery of Grecian pottery coming in this week. You’ll be there to help Tessa sort through it all?”

“Yeah,” Castiel nodded. “Of course.”

Benny gave him a last, odd sort of smile, told Sam it had been nice to meet him, and left the room with a clack of the door.

“He seems nice,” Sam said.

“He’s good at what he does,” Castiel said, his eyes drifting back to his computer screen. He wasn’t used to Benny giving him smiles like that. He got a sour feeling in the pit of his stomach trying to contemplate what he meant by it.

***

Castiel invited Sam to use his office until finals. For some reason, he braced himself for Sam to say no. Except then he accepted, and Castiel realized that he had been expecting that, too.

After the first three days, enough of the office had wandered in and just so happened to meet Sam that Castiel started to wonder if it had become _news_ that he had a stray law student seeking refuge in his office. By the time Linda popped in asking after the expense report, she introduced herself as museum director like Sam was just another employee she had to manage.

“Family law, hm?” Linda said, looking Sam up and down with the same calculating expression she gave new interns and potential fundraising donors. Somehow, the fact that she was half as tall as Sam didn’t make the expression any less daunting. “I might send my son in here at some point to talk to you,” she said. “He’s considering law school. Wants to get into politics.”

Charlie took a shine to Sam immediately and could get him to release big, loud belly laughs. Victor got him into a half-hour conversation about football that Castiel half paid attention to. And Becky started showing up in Castiel’s office to hand deliver his mail and grin so wide at Sam that Castiel started to worry that she’d hurt herself. If Sam noticed it, he didn’t say anything, and Castiel decided to keep out of business that wasn’t his.

But it was good, those weeks leading up to finals. Sam was a comforting presence in the office, with his tapping foot and the flip of paper as he thumbed through his notes. Some days, with only their two desk lamps on and the low rumble of the air circulation system, Castiel felt caught up in a bubble in time, and he almost wished he could store these moments the same way he stored pottery and arrowheads.

***

Sam disappeared in the third week of May, muttering law terminology and trailing flash cards. Castiel wished him luck, but wasn’t entirely sure he was heard.

The next Friday, Castiel was standing in the east wing gallery with Benny, Linda, and Tessa as they walked through the construction for an upcoming traveling exhibit on the Gupta Empire. One of the workers had an electric screwdriver whirring, so Castiel almost missed his phone buzzing against his thigh.

“Hello?” he said, stepping away from where the others examined the progress of a wood-and-plaster model of a Hindu temple.

“Cas?”

Castiel’s shoulder relaxed. “Hello, Sam.”

“I know you’re at work,” Sam said. “But I needed to ask—I finished my finals this morning.”

“Congratulations.”

“Thanks.” Pause. “I was wondering if I can take you out somewhere.” A longer pause; the screwdriver kept whirring. It rattled Castiel’s teeth a little. “To pay back for the past few weeks,” Sam added.

Castiel found his voice again. “There’s no need—“ he started.

“But I’d really like to,” Sam insisted. “You saved my ass, Castiel, seriously. I owe you.”

“You don’t,” Castiel said, though without much heat. He took another few steps. “But all right.”

“Great.” Sam’s voice became brighter. “Can I meet you in front of the museum around five? You get off then, right?”

“Right.”

“I’ll see you then.”

“Okay.” Castiel listened to Sam hang up.

“Everything okay?” Benny called out.

“Fine,” Castiel said, slowly pocketing his phone.

***

Castiel sat on the off-white marble steps with his elbows atop his thighs. Visitors filtered from the museum, families with drooping kids and couples discussing restaurant options.

“Have a good weekend, Cas,” Charlie called out as she passed him, her bag swinging dangerously close to his head.

“Thanks.” He ducked to the right. Charlie paused a few steps down and glanced back.

“You need a ride or something?” she asked.

“No, thanks,” he replied. He hesitated. “I’m waiting for Sam.”

“Yeah?” Charlie said, her eyebrows rising. “Hey, good for you, man. He seems like a great catch.”

Castiel blinked at her. “You think it’s a date?”

“Um. Is that not what it is?”

“I’m not sure.”

Charlie’s eyes narrowed; she jogged up the half dozen steps to plop herself beside him.

“Tell me,” she ordered.

Castiel wiped at his nose and shrugged. “I don’t know. He said he wanted to take me out somewhere. So we’re not eating lunch in the café anymore and we’re not doing work; we’re spending time together during the evening. Does that make it a date? Did I agree to a date?”

“Maybe,” Charlie said. “Do you like that idea? Of dating him?”

“I don’t know.”

“Are you worried he’ll react weird to you being asexual?”

“I’m not sure.”

“So it’s the romance?”

“I don’t _know_.” Castiel threw up his hands. “I just wish I knew what he wants, what he thinks is happening. I don’t want to…I don’t want to hurt him.”

Charlie cupped her chin into one hand. “There’s this amazing thing called language,” she said. “It lets us ask questions very much like the one you’re struggling with.”

Castiel shot her a look.

“See, I can’t argue properly because you sound so sure,” he said.

“I have my moments.” Charlie leaned forward and pressed a swift kiss to his temple. “Good luck. You’ll probably survive.”

“Thanks,” Castiel mumbled as Charlie unhooked her arm from his and clattered the rest of the way down the marble steps. Castiel folded his hands together and watched her until her flash of red hair disappeared around the corner. Five minutes later, a tall figure appeared at the foot of the stairs. He wore dark jeans and a light gray sweater that fit his figure well. He looked good.

Castiel stood and waved to Sam, his heart starting to sink in a way that made him furious at himself. So Sam was a normal person who liked dates and sex; so he’d taken a shine to Castiel; so he’d started courting like everyone did. And here Castiel could only react like a frightened animal. It wasn’t fair; it was all mismatched; it was Castiel’s uneven edges chaffing against the rest of the world again, and it wasn’t _fair._

Castiel remained rooted to the marble steps as Sam jogged up to him. The effort made his cheeks pink and his hair a little scattered. A sweep of affection overcame Castiel, which really wasn’t needed in the cocktail of emotion already brewing inside him.

“Hi,” Sam said, drawing even with Castiel, and in the midst of his brewing cocktail, Castiel thought for a split second that Sam was going to lean down and kiss him. He tried to decide if that would be a good or bad thing and came up with a big fat blank.

“Thanks for rolling with this,” Sam was saying. “I should have given you more notice.”

“I’m fine.” Castiel stuck his hands into his coat pockets. “I’m glad to hear your finals are finished.”

“That makes two of us.” Sam gestured, and Castiel followed him down the steps.

“Can I ask what the plan is?” Castiel asked.

“Food, at some point.” Sam glanced back. “But I dunno, I thought we could just…do whatever tonight. No tests, no work.” Castiel clattered down the last few steps and toyed with the keys in his pocket.

They spent an hour wandering around the local shops before they closed for the night, an hour and a half looking for a bar that Sam had once eaten at, and another half hour to realize that said bar was closed. They finally bought falafel from a food truck and ate it on a bench in the adjacent park. The sun sank behind the buildings as dog walkers and joggers passed them on the paved trail. By the time they tossed their greasy paper into the trashcan and followed the path through a copse of trees and along the perimeter of a small lake, dusk had settled. The only light came from the occasional street lamp and its pale green glow. Sam didn’t do anything more to make Castiel think of kisses. But he did laugh a lot, smile a lot, and his hand brushed Castiel’s enough times that he had started to lose count.

“Then, of course, I had to do everything Dean was doing, and I jumped right after him,” Sam was saying, his hands gesticulating. “Broke my arm in two places.” He laughed. “I rode on Dean’s handlebars to the emergency room.”

Castiel looked at him askance. He almost asked, ‘Where on earth were your parents?’ before he remembered himself. “I wouldn’t have followed Gabe,” he said instead. “But he’d have convinced me it was a good idea.” Castiel wrinkled his nose. “He was always getting me in trouble just because I was younger and the most gullible.”

“Yeah.” Sam tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. “Dean convinced me that the Easter Bunny was real up until I was 11 or something. But, y’know, he would also do just about anything for me.” They walked a few paces in silence, their shoes pattering against the pavement. “It took a few months to convince him he couldn’t put me through law school single-handed. I mean, he helps when he can, but he’s got a girlfriend and her kid to think about, too.” When Castiel looked over, Sam’s profile was briefly outlined in pale green. The corners of his mouth had turned down. “He’d throw a fit if he found out about my second job.”

“He doesn’t know?” Castiel asked. He tried to keep his tone neutral. The topic hadn’t come up all these weeks; Castiel had been under the impression that Sam just as leave never discusses it.

“You kidding?” Sam chuffed and tilted his head back to the overhang of budding trees. It exposed the length of his throat. “He’d shout me into quitting and then that’s my rent gone.” He lowered his head again. “It’s just to get through the next few years, anyway,” he said. “It’s not as if I’m not careful. I’ve heard the stories same as anyone else. I’m not stupid about it.” Sam fell into silence, his chin tucked against his chest. Castiel rolled in his lips before speaking.

“I guess I have the opposite problem,” he said.

Sam huffed. “Yeah?”

“Disappointing everyone with my lack of sex.” He wondered if it had been a flippant thing to say, but the next moment Sam let out a real, deep laugh.

“I guess that’s true,” he said. “Have they given you a hard time?”

“Meg apologized. Anna forced Gabe and Balthazar to, also. It’s fine.” Sam ducked his head a little to look into Castiel’s downturned face, and it was endearing enough to make Castiel want to reach out and touch him somehow. Grab his arm; clasp his shoulder.

“They don’t believe that I’m asexual and aromantic,” Castiel said. Like a shield, maybe. Or first tentative step. Sam’s eyebrows rose.

“I’ve heard of asexual,” he said. He didn’t speak for several more steps. “So, you don’t have a drive?”

“I’ve masturbated.” The words were out before Castiel could properly censor them, and at this point he might as well keep going. “But sure, it means I don’t look at a person and want to have sex with them. I’m not interested in it.” Castiel looked over the lake, lit up by the city. “My family’s not convinced that asexuality isn’t a trend I picked up from the internet. Meg thinks I need to give sex a try before I claim the word.” Castiel exhaled hard. “I don’t know. It’s not like anyone’s kicked me out of the house for it, you know? I’m not being persecuted. Most of them wouldn’t even have an issue with me liking men.”

“It still sounds frustrating,” Sam said. His voice was low. He slowed nearly to a stop, and Castiel mirrored him. They stood an arm’s length away; if Castiel had reached out, his fingertips would have just brushed Sam’s shirt.

Castiel rubbed at the side of his face. “I wonder sometimes. Maybe if I had sex I’d understand what the big fuss is and start wanting people that way.” Castiel felt limp exhaustion rise through the center of his body. He wanted to go home.

“Sex isn’t everything it’s cracked up to be,” Sam said philosophically. Castiel managed a laugh for that one. “And aromantic,” Sam continued after a beat of silence. “So you don’t like dating, either.”

“I—“ Castiel’s heart sank. Sam shifted a little, a transfer of weight from one leg to the other, and his face fell into a pool of streetlamp light. His countenance was focused. “Was this supposed to be a date?” Castiel asked. Sam rubbed at the back of his neck and examined his shoes. “Oh.” Castiel took a step back.

“Cas—“

“Do you like me?” Castiel demanded.

“I like you in a lot of ways. Whatever way you want.”

“No, no.” Castiel scowled and shook his head. “What way do _you_ want?”

Sam didn’t speak for long enough that Castiel knew the answer. He looked away and bit at his bottom lip hard and sudden enough that it stung.

“God, it’s not even important,” Sam blurted. “We’re friends, okay?”

“Did I give the wrong signals?” Castiel asked. “Meg tells me that I miss signals all the time, that I give them and people get the wrong ideas.”

“What? No. I don’t know.” Sam hesitated. “What do you want me to say? You invited me to eat burgers with you and then bought me lunch and let me work in your office.”

“And?”

“So that signaled that you were a decent person and didn’t mind that people pay me to fuck them.” Sam’s voice had swelled in volume. “Cas, you’re overthinking this.”

“I have to!” Castiel threw up one hand. “It’s like there’s this whole language everyone but me is fluent in. Of course I overthink!”

Over the lake, the wind carried the sound of cars growling and people talking. Castiel tightened his jacket.

“I should head home,” he said. Sam took a half step toward him.

“We’re not mad at each other, are we?” he said.

“No,” Castiel said. He turned and started walking the other way on the pavement.

***

Castiel didn’t let himself think the words until he’d gotten home and dumped his keys in their basket and hung up his coat. He brushed his teeth and rinsed his face with cold water and changed into his pajamas. He slipped into bed, stared up at the shadowed ceiling. Then he let out a rough cry and covered his eyes with one hand.

_You’ve ruined it._

***

Sam disappeared into radio silence for three weeks. Castiel buried himself in the opening of the Gupta Empire exhibit. When anyone asked about Sam’s absence, Castiel grunted something about finals being over. When Charlie tried to dig deeper than that, Castiel told her that no, Sam hadn’t wanted to date and yes, he was just busy.

Linda was the only one who didn’t let the topic drop. “I’d still like him to talk to Kevin,” she said on a muggy Thursday afternoon, leaning against the frame of Castiel’s door. “Does he have an email?”

“I’m sure he _has_ an email—“

“No need to get fresh with me.”

Castiel ducked his head and grabbed his phone. “I have a phone number,” he mumbled, scrolling through his contacts.

A week later, Castiel accompanied Becky and Benny to the café for lunch when he caught sight of a long mane of hair. Sam had his back turned; facing him was Kevin. Before Castiel could somehow duck away, Kevin spotted them and waved. To Castiel’s right, Becky let loose a small, high sound.

“Nice caterpillar, kid,” Benny greeted as they neared. Kevin snorted, and one hand came up to brush the small patch of hair growing above his lips.

“I’m working on it,” he said. Sam had swiveled in his seat. His hazel eyes landed on Castiel, who glanced away.

“Hi, Sam,” Becky chirped. She had that too-wide smile on again, and Castiel tried focusing his attention on the sign announcing the soup of the day. He could feel Sam’s attention like a physical thing.

“Hey,” Sam said at last. “Benny, hi.”

“You two talking law things?” Benny asked.

“No, I think he’s trying to scare me away from it first.” Kevin rolled his eyes.

“I’m trying to give him a realistic idea,” Sam replied.

“We won’t disturb you,” Benny said. “We were just getting our food to go.” Castiel caught sight of Becky’s disappointment and pressed his lips together.

When they were preparing to return to their offices, Becky told them to go ahead without her. Benny and Castiel had almost reached the end of the hallway when Castiel snatched a glance back. Becky stood in front of Sam, clasping her bag and smiling so, so wide. She was pretty in that moment. Castiel huffed and followed Benny around the corner.

“Everything okay?” Benny asked while they waited for the elevator.

“Stellar,” Castiel answered.

Benny didn’t push it.

***

Castiel got Sam’s photo text two hours later. It took him a moment to recognize the little medieval display. He tossed the phone down and spent ten whole minutes reading an email from a curator in Baltimore without registering a word. When he finally dragged himself to his feet and strode to the elevator, he wildly hoped Linda would intercept him with a last-minute emergency. It didn’t happen.

When Castiel reached the medieval exhibit and tapped Sam’s shoulder, the man physically jumped. He stared up at Castiel with wide eyes, and for a moment Castiel wondered if he’d imagined the text in the first place.

“I didn’t think that would work,” Sam said. He shook his head then scooted over on the bench. Castiel sank down beside him. They didn’t talk immediately, instead watching a woman try to manage four kids as they pressed their noses up to the glass to examine the swords and gauntlets on display.

“Dean used to read these comics about King Arthur to me when we were kids,” Sam said as the woman started herding the kids to the next exhibit. “I liked Sir Galahad the best. He was pure, you know?”

Castiel examined the wood floor beneath them. “What was Becky talking to you about?” he asked.

“Asking me out.” Sam leaned back on the bench, his eyes still on the display.

“She’s a nice girl.”

“She is.” Sam paused. “I declined, though.” Castiel looked over enquiringly; Sam returned with a small shrug. “It’s not really something I’m looking for now.”

Castiel’s shoulders slumped. “Sam, you don’t have to—“

“I’m not,” Sam said, straightening. He leveled a thoughtful look at Castiel. “You know, I was being honest when I said it didn’t matter. I want to be your friend.”

“I know.”

“And I was trying not to be pushy. Trying to let you talk when you were ready. And then you can’t fucking look at me ”

“Sam,” Castiel started, then paused, his lips still parted.

“What?”

“What if I told you I recognize these sorts of situations? And that no matter how nice everyone is about it, at some point the fact that two people want seriously different things becomes a major problem?”

“And you know what I want, is that it?” Castiel looked over and realized that Sam seemed properly pissed. That took him aback.

“You said—“

“I said nothing, actually. You just made guesses.”

“Was I not right?”

“Not the point. Point is, you think if I don’t get romance or sex I’m going to throw the whole thing away?”

“Eventually…”

“Jesus Christ.” Sam turned his whole body toward Castiel now, his hands coming up. “Castiel, you know what I really, honestly want?” Castiel grunted. “For you to quit being a self-pitying ass about this.” Castiel snapped his head over; Sam’s nostrils were flaring. He stood and made the bench groan. Castiel ended up staring at his elbow. “Call when you’re willing to acknowledge me in front of people again.” Castiel kept his eyes pinned to the same spot and listened to Sam walk away, his footsteps shattering against the glass of the exhibits.

***

He called Sam’s number twelve hours later while the clock burned ‘3:14 a.m.’ into his corneas. He got voicemail.

He woke up at seven in the morning when his phone started vibrating in his loose grip.

He jabbed at the answer key and pressed the phone against his ear.

“I’ve been an ass,” he said. “I’ve been frightened and bitter and a complete ass.”

He held his breath as someone on the other end of the line exhaled long and loose.

“I was being dramatic.”

“No!” Castiel jumped in. “No, _I_ was. And I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too.”

A beat of silence, and the lack of sleep made it seem like a swell idea for Castiel to bend over and start giggling. A few seconds later, he heard something similar come over the phone’s speaker.


	4. The Brownie Metaphor

When Raphael’s birthday rolled around that weekend, Castiel noted that _she_ wasn’t dragged to any bars. Or hotel rooms, for that matter.

“Because no one needed to drag her,” Anna explained over the murmur of conversation. She snagged a shrimp roll from a passing waiter’s tray and popped it into her mouth. “She took matters into her own hands.”

“So you’re saying if I’d been more proactive, I could have avoided all that?”

“Exactly.” Anna drained her wine glass and set her sights on the bar. Castiel trailed after her while they dodged a maze of cousins and uncles and aunts.

“Yeah, but this looks like a lot of work,” Castiel considered, looking around the room that Raphael had reserved. It wasn’t high end — even Raphael didn’t make quite enough to feed everyone steak and swordfish. But the food was good, and a majority of the family had managed to show up.

“Pick your battles, Cas.” Anna accepted the fresh glass of wine the bartender handed her. Castiel looked at her sidelong as she took a long gulp.

“Do you _need_ to get drunk?” he asked.

“A little.” Anna lowered her glass and examined her surroundings. “Just do me a favor,” she said. “If you see Michael, warn me. Then maybe try to convince him that I’m not here. Tell him I had an emergency at work. Which makes sense, because I literally deal with emergencies on a daily basis.” She stuck out her bottom lip. “I save peoples’ lives,” she said. “I stop aortal bleeding and restart peoples’ hearts. I’m sort of a badass.”

“Yes,” Castiel agreed gamely.

“So I can handle Michael, right?”

“Absolutely.”

“Good.” Anna tipped back her glass and drained it again. “I’m going to go hang out in the bathroom.” She shuffled away in her heels, tugging at the hem of her dress.

Castiel leaned against the bar and examined the room again. Raphael stood at the center of attention with her sleek white dress and carefully done hair. She chatted with Zachariah and Ezekiel, both of whom seemed to have gotten balder since the last time Castiel had seen them; that must have been around Christmas. His eyes moved from person to person and noted the changes he found; Hael was skinnier, Samandriel had grown a few inches, Inias seemed to be trying out a beard (it wasn’t working for him), Muriel had dyed her hair. He considered finding a cousin or aunt he hadn’t spoken to in a while and striking up conversation, but something kept him rooted in his place.

“Castiel,” a voice said, and Castiel turned just as a man a little taller than him approached the bar. His suit had a touch of fraying at its edges, and his five o’clock shadow had, perhaps, more the look of a three-day shadow. He leaned over the bar and whistled to catch the bartender’s attention. It took Castiel a few seconds too many to place him.

“Gadreel?” Castiel frowned.

“Whiskey,” Gadreel told the bartender, then returned his attention to Castiel. “You look surprised,” he said. “It’s been nearly five years, I think?”

“Six,” Castiel said blankly. “Last I saw you, someone had thrown cranberry sauce in your face.”

“Ah, yes.” Gadreel took the whiskey. “That was Hester, wasn’t it?”

Castiel leaned back and looked Gadreel up and down again. “How on earth did you manage to get in here?”

“I’ve been doing well, actually, thanks for the concern.” He took a long sip. “The lady of the hour summoned me.” Gadreel jerked his head to his niece. “A very nice invitation. You got it, right? I liked her use of the ribbons.”

“Raphael _invited_ you?”

“I considered not coming in case this was a chance for more cranberry-focused family bonding. But Raphael gave me a call and said she wanted to start mending ties.” Gadreel gave a muffled snort.

Castiel glanced at Raphael again, who had broken into a peal of laughter. “You think Michael asked her to do it?”

“I have no doubt.” Gadreel slapped his glass onto the bar and examined the ice cubes within. “You’re one of three people I expect will stoop to speaking to me,” he said. “So, speak.”

“Um.”

“You have a job, don’t you? How’s that going?”

“Fine.” Castiel caught sight of Bartholomew as he passed; he gave Gadreel an expression that bordered between disbelief and repugnance. “We just opened a special exhibit on the Gupta Empire.”

“I never liked history,” Gadreel mused.

“Oh. Well.”

He was saved by a sudden commotion from the entrance to the room. He and Gadreel looked over — along with most of the family — in time to catch Gabe, Balthazar, Meg, Lilith, and Ruby standing there, all looking exceedingly pleased with themselves. Except for Lilith. She mostly looked bored. Raphael had already swept over, her grip on her glass visibly tight even from across the room, and grabbed Gabe’s shoulder to pull him into a hushed conversation. Meg spotted Castiel and waved furiously. Castiel smiled back.

Gabe must have said something convincing because Raphael suddenly let go of his shoulder and leaned back, her lips pursed. She turned to the rest of the group, said something that looked clipped, then glided back to where Zachariah and Ezekiel had been staring unabashedly.

“Say,” Gadreel was saying, and Castiel looked back to him. “Do you suppose that Ezekiel is still angry about the identity fraud?”

“I’d guess yes,” Castiel said, just before Gabe’s group descended on them. Meg appeared as a wet kiss to his cheek, and Castiel turned enough to find that she had applied lipstick red as poppy.

“Hey, Clarence,” she said; he smelled the booze on her breath.

“Hi. I hadn’t expected you, either.”

“Gadreel!” Balthazar greeted with a shout, so now anyone who hadn’t realized one of the family pariahs was in attendance was duly informed.

“Balthazar, Gabriel.” Gadreel looked his two nephews over. “You’ve both grown.”

“Damn, you old coot.” Gabe tossed an arm over Gadreel’s shoulder. “You should have told us you’d be here. Then we all could have made our grand entrance together.”

Gadreel squinted, his lips pursed.

“Ah, it’s fine.” Balthazar punched Gadreel’s arm. “Bet we can still get Uriel to make that one face by the end of the night.”

“Perhaps,” Gadreel said. He nodded to the three women. “Friends of yours?”

“Meg and Ruby Genem, and Lilith Malke,” Gabe gestured.

“We were told there’d be an open bar if we helped crash the party,” Ruby added. Gadreel lifted his glass in acknowledgment.

“How did you convince Raphael not to kick you out?” Castiel asked.

“We have to leave before dinner is served,” Meg told him, draping an arm across his waist. “So, what, fifteen minutes to scandalize some Miltons? Shouldn’t be too hard.” She squeezed at Castiel’s waist, and her white teeth bit at her bottom lip as she smiled at him. “What do you say, Clarence? Ever made out in front of your folks before?”

“No.”

“Disappear for five minutes and come out with sex hair,” Ruby suggested, leaning forward.

Lilith looked up from her phone long enough to contribute, “Make your tie askew to sell it.”

Castiel twisted away, just enough to loosen Meg’s grip. She dropped her arm; her grin faded. The conversation turned to Balthazar’s latest story from the place where he bartended; Gadreel seemed drawn in by the spectacle. Castiel stood a little ways away and watched while Meg ordered, then downed, a vodka. He remained silent when she did it a second time, and finally spoke at the third glass.

“What happened?”

Meg lowered the glass and glanced at him. Her poppy lipstick had smudged.

“What?” she parroted.

“Something happened.”

Meg cackled and smacked the glass on the table.

“No, it didn’t,” she said, like a kid who denied eating a cookie while she had crumbs all over her shirt. Castiel cocked his head and raised his eyebrows. Meg deflated and pushed herself, unsteady, away from the counter.

“I don’t need…these guys…” She jerked a thumb back.

“Come on,” he said, holding out an arm. “There’s a porch.”

No one took note while Castiel and Meg shuffled to the back door that led to a wide porch looking out over the city. A few chairs and tables were scattered around a fire pit, but it was too cold still for anyone to want to eat out here. Castiel and Meg dragged two chairs over to sit side by side in front of the pit. Meg immediately bent over, her hair hanging like a curtain, her hands grabbing fistfuls of it.

“I’m a _fuckup_ ,” she groaned.

“No, you’re not.” Castiel leaned over and rubbed Meg’s upper back. She groaned again and leaned against him.

“You know that girl I was seeing?” she said.

“Sure.”

“She texted me today and said she couldn’t see me anymore.” Meg made a peculiar sound like she wanted to laugh but couldn’t manage it. “She said she’s got a boyfriend now and that she ‘knows herself better’ and she was heaping all this bullshit about how much I helped her figure herself out.” Meg lifted her head, and her hair scraggled into her face. “I dated a curious straight girl,” she said. “ _Again_. How the hell do I keep doing this?”

Castiel made a sympathetic noise and kept rubbing Meg’s back.

“I swear, people hear the word ‘pansexual’ and they decide I’m their personal sample tray,” she continued. “I’m so fucking sick of it.” Castiel sighed and looked over the cityscape.

“I wish I could fix it,” he said. Meg shrugged and straightened, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand.

“Ruby and I are going to a bar after this,” she said. “I’ll get drunk enough to forget about it.”

“Meg—“

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be fine.” Meg gathered her hair away from her face and slumped into her chair with a heavy sigh, her arms crossed. They remained silent for a long span of minutes, watching the traffic light below them cycle from red to yellow to green.

“Anna says you’ve been hanging out with someone,” Meg said apropos of nothing. Castiel jerked his head to her.

“When did she say that?” he asked.

“Last week.” Meg glanced at him slyly. “So?”

Castiel opened his mouth then closed it. “He’s a friend,” he said.

“And?”

“And nothing, Meg.”

Meg crossed her ankles, examining the tips of her shoes. “’Kay,” she said. “Just wanted to keep tabs.”

“I’m still ace. And aro.”

“Never said otherwise.”

“Ok.” Castiel crossed his arms. “Good.”

Meg groaned and rolled her head back. “C’mon, Clarence, don’t take it personally. I just want you to be happy.”

“I am happy.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“ _Meg_.”

“I’m afraid you don’t understand the extra, okay?” Meg straightened. “It’s like a plain brownie versus a brownie with whipped cream. I mean, times like this, being dumped, that part sucks. But I’ve been so…goddamn, I dunno. Fulfilled by people. It’s incredible. And I look over and you don’t know that part of life, and I worry you’ll never get the whipped cream.”

Castiel met her eye. She looked wide-eyed, splotchy-faced, and genuine.

“Some people don’t like whipped cream,” he said. “Some people really, genuinely, prefer plain brownie.”

Meg looked like she wanted to argue, then deflated.

“Fine,” she said.

Castiel thought for a moment, then held out an arm. Meg cocked her head, scooted her chair closer, and rested her head on his shoulder. He placed a light kiss on the top of her head. They listened to the chatter of Miltons behind them while the stoplight continued to cycle: green, yellow, red.

***

Castiel triple checked the address scrawled on the back of an envelope before he parked his car on the side of the narrow street. Or tried, at least. Three years living in a city somehow hadn’t improved his parallel parking by much. When he was satisfied he’d come back to an intact car, at least, he reached across to grab the package of cookies and slid out of his car. The apartment buildings loomed above him, their windows like judgmental eyes. He jogged across the street to a door with a faded 2930 on the front. The door was unlocked, just as Sam had promised, though slightly swollen and damp. Castiel passed through a silent front hall, up several sets of stairs, and down another short hall. He found the door numbered 395 and rapped with his knuckles. Almost immediately, the door clacked and swung open to reveal Sam in a light brown sweater and blue apron.

“Hey, you found it!” Sam greeted, wiping his hands across the apron. Castiel followed Sam into the apartment. It was a tiny place, just as Sam had promised. It didn’t seem to be covered in trash or hosting cockroaches, though, which Castiel had begun to half expect.

“This isn’t nearly as awful as you claimed,” Castiel said, draping his jacket over the back of a battered suede couch.

“Because I kicked my roommates out and spent all day cleaning,” Sam called from the kitchen. Castiel trailed in that direction and found Sam bent over two bubbling pots. He slid the cookies on the single countertop, beside half an onion and an empty box of pasta.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Castiel said.

“If I didn’t want you to run out screaming I did,” Sam replied, popping a lid on one of the pots and turning to Castiel. “So, if you want an actual cooked meal, we’re going to have to go visit my brother. Otherwise you get me and my ability to boil noodles.” Castiel grinned; he couldn’t quite help it.

It had been Sam’s idea to have a quiet dinner and movie night. He’d sounded a little nervous when he’d suggested it, like Castiel would take it as too much at once. But Castiel had still been buzzing with a rush of dopamine from the knowledge that he and Sam were on good terms again. He’d probably have agreed to go skydiving if Sam had suggested it.

Now, Castiel leaned against the refrigerator and watched Sam drain the pasta in a battered colander. His hair caught the light from the single bulb that created a soft buzz above them. The refrigerator was covered in battered photos and swarms of magnet poetry pieces. Castiel read a line: ‘want to do chimichanga with you.’

“You live here with two roommates?” Castiel ventured. He reached out and plucked out a few magnet poetry words.

“Brady and Gordon, yeah,” Sam said, returning the pot to the stove. It was a little comical, watching Sam navigate through the tiny space. “They’re both out of town this weekend, though.”

Castiel hummed in acknowledgment and placed words on the fridge with tiny _click_ s. Sam’s hand brushed his shoulder, and he turned around.

“Come on, we can eat,” Sam said.

They dug into heaping bowls of pasta and white sauce while perched on the couch, a ‘90s movie Sam had insisted they watch — _The_ _Usual Suspects —_ playing on the clunky TV. At some point, Sam rustled up boxed wine and they opened the cookies Castiel had brought. They were done with the wine and halfway through the cookies while they watched Kevin Spacey reveal the final plot twist, and Sam cracked up when Castiel broke into an actual gasp.

“That’s not…what?” Castiel gestured helplessly at the TV as the credits rolled. “ _How_?”

“We can watch it again sometime, and then you can catch all the hints,” Sam said, gathering their dirty bowls and heading into the kitchen. “Pick out the next movie.” When Sam returned with a bottle of schnapps, Castiel was already jamming _The Name of the Rose_ into the DVD player.

“I should have figured,” Sam said, landing on the couch. “With the monks and the massive labyrinth of books.”

“And Sean Connery,” Castiel reminded him, sitting beside him enough for their shoulders to brush.

They were descending into the last half hour of the movie when Sam’s phone buzzed. Castiel paused the movie as Sam made an apologetic expression and answered.

“Hello?”

Castiel picked at a hole in the couch; someone’s voice came from the other end of the line. “Oh. Um.” The tone in Sam’s voice made Castiel look over. He barely caught sight of a scowl before Sam stood from the couch and padded into the kitchen. His voice drifted out too soft to properly hear, so Castiel tilted his head back and closed his eyes. The wine and schnapps made his mind drift more readily than usual. He snapped his eyes back open when Sam’s footsteps neared. He looked pissed and jammed his phone back into his jeans pocket.

“Problem?” Castiel asked.

“No.” Sam gnawed at his bottom lip.

“Liar,” Castiel accused. “Do you need me to go? I can go.”

Sam exhaled hard and crossed his arms. “That was a call from a…a friend.”

“And?”

“And they have some potential work for me, if I want it.” Sam shifted his head, and a curtain of hair fell over his eyes.

“You need the money, don’t you?” Castiel said. Sam shrugged, and Castiel pushed himself to his feet. He only swayed a little.

“You can’t drive like that,” Sam said.

“Hm,” Castiel replied, and watched the room do a lazy spin. “Maybe not.”

“I’ll—“

“Can I stay here for an hour or so?” Castiel interrupted. “I’ll sleep. You go work.”

Sam looked torn, but Castiel saw his expression sink into resignation. Castiel collapsed back onto the couch, and Sam patted his shoulder.

“Thanks,” Sam muttered, and Castiel waved a vague hand.

Castiel watched the rest of _The Name of the Rose_ while Sam got ready in his bedroom. When he emerged, he was wearing the fitted, dark jeans that Castiel remembered, and a tight shirt. He carried a blanket and pillow.

“Here,” he said, dumping them in Castiel’s lap. “You can leave whenever you want; just make sure the door’s locked behind you. Brady and Gordon shouldn’t be back tonight, but in case they are, tell them I had to run an errand.”

“Do they not know—“

“No.” Sam’s voice was curt. He leaned against the back of the couch. “I’m sorry for bailing on you,” he said. “I shouldn’t—“

Castiel grunted. “Come back, and we’ll watch the rest of Sean Connery,” he said. Sam made an affirmative noise, and his hand came down to linger on Castiel’s shoulder.

When the front door had snapped shut, Castiel got himself arranged under the blankets and buried his face in the pillow. A second later, he frowned and dug around in his pocket for his phone. He ducked under the blanket and brought the phone’s screen up nearly to his nose.

_‘Text me when you get there.’_

The phone chirped a few moments later.

_‘why?’_

_‘so I know you didn’t get mugged’_

He had to wait longer this time for the phone to light up with an, ‘ _I won’t get mugged.’_

_‘you don’t know that’_

_‘fair. Ok.’_

Castiel dropped his head back into the pillow almost immediately.

When he roused himself some time later, Castiel’s mouth tasted fuzzy and his eyes were gummy. He checked his phone and found he’d been sleeping for nearly three hours and that Sam had left him a series of texts.

‘ _I got here safely’_

_‘no mugging; I was careful’_

_‘this is embarrassing; I think one of these clients works in the place I buy groceries’_

Then, a few minutes ago, _‘almost done here; are you still at the apartment?’_

 _‘just woke up,’_ Castiel texted back. His fingers hovered over the keyboard another moment before he stowed the phone away. He hauled himself to a proper sit and looked around at the dim, silent apartment. He shuffled to the bathroom and after relieving himself, splashed cold water on his face and gargled with a bottle of mouthwash he found sitting on the counter. He wandered back into the kitchen and found it still scattered with dishes and dirty pots.

By the time the apartment door squealed open, Castiel was rinsing off the last of the pots and placing it in the dish drainer. Sam paused at the entryway; his hair was disheveled.

“What are you doing?” Sam asked, his voice creaking.

“Whatever it looks like I’m doing,” Castiel replied. He appraised Sam. “You look tired.”

“It’s almost two,” Sam agreed.

“Go change,” Castiel ordered. “I saw hot chocolate packets around here somewhere.”

“Cabinet next to the sink,” Sam said. He didn’t move yet, his eyes fixed on Castiel. His expression was difficult to interpret.

“Do…you not like hot chocolate?” Castiel ventured. Sam blinked.

“I do,” he said. He shut the door behind him and toed off his shoes. “I like it a lot.”

Twenty minutes later, Castiel emerged from the kitchen with two mugs of the promised hot chocolate and pressed one into Sam’s hands. He sank into the couch beside him slowly, not wanting to spill anything. Sam wrapped his large hands around the mug and inhaled.

“It’s just about June,” Castiel mused. “Might be getting too warm for this.”

“Never,” Sam protested, blowing at his mug and taking a careful sip. He bobbed his head toward the TV. “Come on, you said I could watch the last bit.”

Castiel wasn’t paying much attention to the movie this time around. He kept sliding his attention to how Sam slumped bonelessly into the couch, his head nodding every so often. Sometimes Castiel caught him staring into his mug like he was trying to divine something from it.

When the end credits began rolling, neither of them bothered to get up. Castiel peered at Sam yet again and realized his eyelids had started to slide shut. He reached out and gently extracted the mug from Sam’s loose grip. Sam hummed and slid a little further down the couch. Castiel was just wondering whether this was his cue to take his leave when Sam mumbled something.

“What?” Castiel asked.

“Said I don’t wanna work for those clients again,” Sam said a little clearer. His eyes blinked open and he stared at the TV. The DVD’s main menu had started to play. “I hope I don’t.”

Castiel’s back straightened. “Did they do something?”

“No,” Sam grunted. “Just annoying when you can tell people don’t really…really believe you’re real, basically? Like they think they can do whatever just because they’re paying me. Or they pretend I can’t hear what they say.” Castiel felt his heart sink. Sam was still staring unseeingly at the TV. His chest jumped with a light laugh. “Jesus, I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“It’s weird, isn’t it?” Sam tilted his head in Castiel’s direction. “I go off and…then come back…” He gestured loosely. Castiel tried to think of the diplomatic way to say he was a tad too tipsy to give it real thought.

“It’s not like I’m allergic,” he said. Sam giggled.

“Just that I have two…two sides, right?” Sam gestured with a hand held flat. “’Cause they can’t mix, and if they mix bad stuff…it’s gonna happen.” He gazed blearily at Castiel. “You’re breaking the rules,” he said.

Castiel brought his feet up on the couch and curled in on himself. “I didn’t mean to,” he said.

“I know,” Sam sighed. He sounded dangerously close to sleep now. “Didn’t say I minded.” Castiel didn’t say anything, just watched while Sam’s eyes finally committed to closing. He slid sideways, and Castiel didn’t think before he leaned toward him. Sam’s head landed on Castiel’s shoulder with a little thump. He felt heavy and warm. Castiel stared at the top of his head, at the way his hair curled and waved, and tried to remember the last time someone had fallen asleep on his shoulder. Anna, maybe, at one of the Thanksgiving family gatherings after dinner. Possibly Gabe while reeking of alcohol.

Castiel reached up with his free hand and tucked a strand of hair out of Sam’s face and behind his ear. Sam hummed, a deep vibration in his core.


	5. The Thanksgiving Episode

Summer passed too quickly, and soon Castiel found himself once again giving tours to school groups and arranging his time with Sam around class schedules. Apparently the third year of law school bore down even harder than the second; the few hours Sam could spare usually consisted of them sitting in the office or at the café doing work. And yes, Castiel suspected that a quiet place to study was a large part of why Sam made the time to hang out with him. But still. He made the time.

On a Monday afternoon, a bit before Sam’s usual arrival time, the door blasted open and someone shouted, “Heyo, Cassandra!” Castiel was actually startled, and it was as a testament to how long it had been since Gabe had invaded Castiel’s office.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Castiel demanded. Gabe plopped into the chair across from his desk and tilted it onto the back legs.

“You should redecorate in here every once in a while,” Gabe said, looking around the office. “Spruce it up with some new old maps.”

“Gabe.”

“I just want to visit my baby cousin,” Gabe protested. “What’s wrong with a little fidelity? Also, I snuck past the blond secretary.”

“Becky?”

Gabe grinned. A second later he straightened and leaned forward with a serious expression. “You took guitar lessons, didn’t you?” he said.

Castiel leaned back automatically. “For a month.”

“So you can play a chord, yeah?”

“Maybe?”

“Ugh.” Gabe threw himself back in his chair. “Lilith officially dropped out of the band and now we’re scrambling for a lead guitarist.”

“What about Ruby?”

“Ruby’s in school or something.” Gabe tilted his head back to gaze at the ceiling. “Balthazar’s going to start posting ads on Craigslist, but you just _know_ we’re going to get a bunch of fucking weirdoes.”

“Maybe if you didn’t have a group called Heaven’s Devils.”

“What’s that got to do with it?”

The door swung open just then. Sam stopped short at the sight of someone unfamiliar in the chair. Gabe twisted around, and for several rigid heartbeats, Castiel waited for the particular brand of hell known as Gabe’s personality to break loose.

“Is this a bad time?” Sam asked just as Gabe turned back around to grin at his cousin and say, “Who’s this tall glass of water?”

“Um.” Castiel looked to Sam, who raised his eyebrows. “Gabe, this is my friend, Sam. Sam, this is my cousin, Gabe.” It took a few moments for the recognition to spread across Sam’s face. He strode across the room and held out a hand.

“Hi,” he said, and Gabe shook his hand with a peculiar smile that usually preceded bad decisions.

“You play guitar, by any chance?” Gabe asked. Sam lifted his chin.

“I can play Hot Cross Buns,” he said. “Otherwise my brother’s the musical one in the family.”

“Any chance he’d want to join a band?”

“Uh. Probably not.”

“Mm.” Gabe glanced at Castiel, and again, Castiel couldn’t place the expression on his face. “Whelp,” Gabe pushed himself to a stand and straightened his jacket. “My search continues, I guess. Nice meeting you, Sambo.”

Sam and Castiel watched as Gabe gave them a final wave and waltzed out of the office. A beat of silence followed the door slamming shut.

“Sambo?”

“It’s not the worst that he could have come up with.”

“You think he recognized…” Sam side-eyed Castiel.

“I doubt it,” Castiel shrugged. “You two only ever talked over the phone, right? Otherwise, he’d have made a spectacle out of it.” Sam swayed on the spot for another moment before making an affirmative grunt and moving to his table.

Five minutes later, the door opened again, this time to reveal Benny.

“Linda says to tell you,” he said, “that the next time she sees your cousin wandering around where he shouldn’t be, she’s going to ban him from the building.”

Castiel blinked. “It’s not like I can control him.”

“Oh, no, I know that.” Benny’s eyes brightened. “I just wanna see the final showdown when it comes. Make sure someone gets me.” He turned and closed the door behind him. Castiel and Sam looked at each other; Sam lasted thirty seconds before he bent over the table, shaking with laughter.

***

When Sam broached the subject of Castiel meeting his brother, they were walking back to the museum from lunch. Castiel frowned into the scarf wrapped around the lower half of his face.

“When?” he asked.

“The Saturday after Thanksgiving,” Sam said. “Dean usually spends Thursday with Lisa’s family in Indiana, and then we all go up to South Dakota to have a second Thanksgiving on Saturday.”

Castiel winced as a fresh gust of frigid wind ruffled his hair and made his eyes water. “Are you sure your family would want me there?” he asked.

“Dude, we pack a full house.” Sam started ticking off on his fingers. “We have Dean, Lisa and Ben, obviously, then Bobby, Ellen, Jo, Rufus, Ash, Jody. And there’s always way too much food. One more person won’t bother anyone.” He peered hopefully at Castiel. “My brother’s really been looking forward to meeting you.”

“You sure about that?”

“What’re you talking about? Of course I’m sure.” Another few steps. “You want time to think about it?”

“I’ll come.” They reached the top of the steps and paused beside the grayish marble lions flanking the entrance. “Of course I’ll come.” He hesitated. “I’d like to return the gesture, but I’m not sure how much fun a Milton Thanksgiving would be for you.”

“Is it that bad?” Sam laughed.

“Probably.”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it.” Sam waved a hand. “I’ve got a nice little tradition going with the Chinese food place down the street.” Castiel’s eyes widened.

“Oh, no, Sam…”

“No, it’s nice.” Sam started for the main doors. “Don’t worry about me. I get the apartment to myself and watch too much Netflix.” Castiel hesitated, but by then Sam was already disappearing through the vestibule, and Castiel hurried to follow.

***

Thanksgiving week rolled around, and by Wednesday afternoon, the museum grew downright dead. The few who’d come to work cleared out by four; the doors closed at five. Castiel, who stayed late to finish an acquisition request, assumed he was the last one in the building besides the night guard until Charlie appeared out of nowhere and insisted that they have a wheelie chair race in the main hall. He told her it would be unprofessional, and they’d get in trouble, and then he ran out of excuses when she grabbed his arm and tugged him from his chair, informing him that Donna wouldn’t give a rat’s ass as long as they didn’t damage anything.

Charlie won, but Castiel gave it a fighting shot after the second round.

Afterwards, as they lazily spun around in the central hall, under the watch of a series of marble busts, Charlie gathered her hair into a ponytail to cool her neck and Castiel leaned back in his chair, staring up at the vaulted ceiling.

“So?” Charlie said.

“So what?” Castiel tilted his head then rolled his eyes. “Fine. Yes, that was fun.” Charlie pumped her fist; Castiel slumped further in his chair, but there was still a smile fighting to get through his expression.

“So, any big plans?” Charlie asked, resting her forearms on the back of her chair and picking at the fraying fabric.

“For Thanksgiving? The usual.” Castiel crossed his arms. “I’m going to meet Sam’s family on Saturday.”

“Really?” Charlie’s voice brightened. “I bet they’re awesome.” Castiel rolled in his lips.

“Hey, Charlie,” he said. He paused, wiping at his lower face with one hand. “You spend your Thanksgiving with your friends, right?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Um.” Castiel scooted himself to a proper seat and placed his hands on his thighs. “Do you think you could invite Sam? Would that be an intrusion?”

Charlie tilted her head. “No, of course not. But I’d be the only person he knows.”

“He likes you,” Castiel said. “And he’s good at making friends.” He shrugged. “It’s just that he’s going to spend tomorrow alone with Chinese food, and I guess I don’t want to intrude, but. You know.”

“Of course.” Charlie tapped at her chin. “I’ll ask it really casually. Give him a big opening in case he doesn’t want to bother with a bunch of queers on Thanksgiving.”

Castiel’s chest felt several tons lighter, and on instinct he reached over to grasp her hand.

“Thanks,” he said. “I mean that.”

“Sure thing,” Charlie said, and squeezed his hand back.

***

Every year someone — usually Michael or Raphael — rented a set of cabins in a nearby state park and for a day and a half, the entire clan would wear Eddie Bauer sweaters and live on top of one another.

Anna had managed to nab the holiday shift this year, and it was hard to argue against someone who was busy saving lives while most of the country had the day off. It did, however, leave Castiel perched in a corner of the main cabin’s living room with a small plate of appetizers and no one to talk to. Gabe and Balthazar didn’t count. Hannah wouldn’t arrive until later that day. The dinner had been catered as per usual, so it wasn’t as if anyone in the kitchen needed his help, and most of the conversations around him centered on careers in operating rooms and large marketing firms. Castiel had learned from experience that peoples’ eyes tended to glaze over when he spent too long talking about Mesopotamia and acquisition requests.

Castiel sighed without meaning to and set his appetizer plate on the side table. He gazed at the familiar faces around him and tried to find someone he wanted to talk to. Zachariah and his three, probably four, divorces. Uriel and the ongoing investigation into fraudulent business practices. Naomi and that major case that had garnered national attention. Hael and the dangerous amount of weight she’d been losing recently. Gadreel and his identity theft that had cost Ezekiel millions. Metatron and Lucien weren’t even around anymore.

It seemed that growing up, Castiel had more memories of the family actually cooking their Thanksgiving meals, of cousins darting around the house in drawn out games of chase, of people smiling and laughing like they meant it. He’d had a good childhood with these people; he’d felt secure among them, like he knew exactly what it meant to be a Milton. Now, perched on the edge of that living room, Castiel realized with an odd little thump that the people around him might as well be a bunch of strangers. A small part of him wondered whether it had something to do with his parents being gone.

He folded his arms over his stomach. He ground his teeth for a moment before hauling himself to a stand and edging past people until he reached the side door. He stepped into a small dune of brown leaves, and the rush of crackling drowned out the susurrus of conversation behind him. The screen door squealed shut, and the conversation cut out entirely.

A charred fire pit sat within a small ring of squat logs. He kicked at one of the logs; his shoes created a spray of decaying bark and shelf mushrooms. His father had loved fires. He’d shown Castiel, Anna, and Hannah the basics as soon as they could safely handle a bit of flint and steel. Castiel still remembered squatting in a cold campsite, his father’s arms bracketing his, guiding him through the motion of setting a spark and catching it in a handful of kindling. His father would make all three children practice the action, then appoint one of them to keep the fire going. And then for hours, Castiel and his sisters would huddle together on a thick log and stare into the flames while speaking of quiet, unimportant things, and sometimes shatteringly important things.

Castiel lowered himself onto one of the logs and braced his forearms on his knees. A cold, hollow point stung somewhere just beneath his lungs. He had to blink hard because his nose had started to tingle. He jammed the heel of his hand into an eye and ground his teeth again.

The screen door wailed. He twisted around. A tall, dark-haired man stepped into the leaf dune, one hand hooked on the door to keep it open.

“It’s a bit cold out here, isn’t it?” Michael asked.

“I don’t know.” Castiel looked to the pit again. “I might start a fire tonight.” Michael made a polite sound and stepped away from the door; it slapped shut. He came as close as the edge of the ring of logs, a little behind and to the left of Castiel, and crossed his arms. He didn’t sit.

“Is everything all right?” he asked. Castiel lifted his head and caught sight of the underside of Michael’s jaw. He never could decide with Michael, these days. As a child, Michael had always been the eldest cousin by several years, old enough that Castiel regarded him as one of the adults. Back then, he’d been a source of stability and far-off wisdom.

“Fine,” Castiel said. It would probably have been more polite to stand as well, but he didn’t.

“Too bad that Anna couldn’t make it.”

Castiel almost rolled his eyes. “She got the holiday shift,” he said while following the shape of ashy logs left in the fire pit.

“I’m sure,” Michael said somewhere behind him. “Couldn’t have been too hard to find someone to trade.” Castiel turned his head a little; Michael had a clear-eyed gaze fixed on the muddle of woods that started a few paces beyond the pit.

“Listen,” Castiel said. “You want me to remind her again how much she owes? It’s not like she doesn’t remember. She’s working on it.”

“I’m aware,” Michael said. He dropped his eyes to Castiel. “And if she’d managed to stay in school, she’d have paid it all back years ago.”

Castiel stood; he wasn’t quite as tall as Michael.

“It’s not as if you’re strapped for cash,” he said.

Michael shrugged. “No, I know,” he said. “It’s the principle.”

“She’s _family_.”

“Which is something she’s abused for enough years. You’re forgetting that I was extremely patient those first few years. I was understanding when she dropped out of law school.”

“You’re angry that she didn’t do what she was supposed to do and become a hotshot lawyer.”

“I don’t mind that she wanted to switch career tracks. I’d have been thrilled to have another doctor in the family. And instead she kept borrowing our funds and spending it on med school. When she left that, I thought it was for a semester because she just needed time after your father. But then nursing school, then some search for…I don’t know. It’s the kind of thing I expect from Gabriel, but we both know Anna is one of the most capable among us. She should be doing much more than driving ambulances around.”

Castiel couldn’t decide whether Michael honestly didn’t understand Anna’s draw to becoming an EMT or if he chose to be callous about it. He couldn’t decide which prospect made him angrier.

“I’ll let her know you still want your money back,” he said.

“That’s not what I came out here to tell you.” Michael sighed, and his face became obscured by a drift of vapor. He tugged up the collar of his jacket. “I’ve been thinking about this,” he said. “And I want you to give Anna a proposal from me.”

Castiel lifted his chin a little.

“She goes back to school — I don’t care where. She _finishes_ school. And the family helps pay for it and all debts are cleared.”

Castiel frowned without being able to help himself. “What catch?”

“No catch.” A smile skidded across Michael’s face. “Just an honest desire to save Anna from her own bad decisions.”

“She’s happy right now,” Castiel said, though his voice had lost some of its force.

“I’m sure she says so,” Michael said. “Just tell her for me.” He turned away without looking for Castiel’s response and opened the screen door. Castiel got a wave of heat and noise, then he was cut off once again.

***

Hannah arrived a little before dinner, and enough cousins and aunts descended on her to ask about college that Castiel didn’t have time for much more than a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek before the minor frenzy of feeding almost forty people ensued. He kept glancing down the table to Hannah, suddenly desperate to soak in the sight of her after so many months. She looked good: pink cheeks, bright eyes, clear skin. She kept snatching glances back at him, and then her smiles would reach up to her eyes. After the pumpkin pie had been served and the caterers began to clear away the final dishes, Hannah appeared at his shoulder and grabbed at his upper arm.

“The bedroom they gave to me and Hester and Hael should be empty,” she said, tugging. He stood and followed and very nearly giggled. Suddenly, they were seven and five years old again, showing each other the secret things of childhood like a snail shell from the garden, a rock with the right shape to it, a perfect four-leaf clover. They snuck up a small side staircase and into one of the small bedrooms already set up with extra cots and air mattresses. Hannah’s things were sprawled on one of the mattresses; her duffel had been left half open, and a tumble of bright clothes scattered across the sheet.

Castiel barely had time to process it before Hannah fell into him with a tight grip around his shoulders; he staggered back a few paces and bent his head into the brown tangle of her hair.

“All right?” he asked. Hannah’s head shook incrementally. He waited; she didn’t have anything to add. So he folded his arms around her and waited some more, his eyes on the dimming landscape of trees visible through the window.

“I’m failing International Business,” she said without preamble, half her words getting lost in Castiel’s jacket. “My roommate hates me openly now. And I think Paul is seeing someone else.”

Castiel tugged back a little, and Hannah pulled her face from where she’d been hiding it in his shoulder. Her eyes, he realized, had heavy bags beneath them. Keeping the sleeve of her sweater caught between two fingers, he sat heavily on the mattress and cleared away a few of Hannah’s shirts.

“Come on, then,” he said. “I’ll listen.”

The window had become truly black and the downstairs chatter began to include the sounds of television by the time Hannah had wound down from the initial burst of the dam.

“He was _lying_ ; there’s no way I can justify it,” she said, sprawled back on the mattress with her hair tangled up in a jacket. “He’s fucking cheating on me. Relationships aren’t worth it.” She gazed, bleary, at the ceiling. Castiel rubbed at his nose in thought.

“I’m one of the last people to give advice in this area,” he said, “but I got some good advice from a coworker a few months ago.”

“Oh?”

“Ask.” Castiel laughed at the expression Hannah shot him. “It’s probably worse to waste a lot of time wondering than it is to just be truthful with someone.”

Hannah blew a stray bit of hair from the corner of her mouth. “I suppose,” she said in a grudging voice. She rolled over on her stomach and propped her chin on her hands. “How are you doing?”

“How am _I_ doing?” Hannah tilted her head, and the smile he knew so well made an honest appearance. Castiel leaned back on his arms and pursed his lips. “Work is fine.”

“It’s always fine.”

“True,” Castiel conceded. He eyed Hannah. “Why, what’s Anna been telling you?”

“Mostly complaining about work and Michael.” Her eyes narrowed. “Has he already—“

“Before you arrived. Same story as usual except now…” He hesitated. “He wants me to tell Anna that if she goes back to school and finishes, he’ll wipe the slate clean.”

“Really?” Hannah’s eyes widened. “Which school?”

“I don’t think he cares,” Castiel sighed. “He’s just still holding onto the idea that Anna’s insulted him by spending however many years jumping around different post-grad options and then having nothing to show for it but an EMT certification.”

“Has anyone explained…about dad...”

“Anna might have,” Castiel said. He picked at a loose nylon thread on the coverlet. “I doubt he got it.” They listened to a few whoops from the lower level and the tinny echo of a sports announcer. Hannah scooted forward and set her head down on the coverlet by Castiel’s hand.

“What else?” she asked in a lower voice.

“Nothing else, really.” Castiel settled his fidgeting hands back into his lap.

“Nothing?”

Castiel shot Hannah a narrow look. “Anna’s been telling you _something_ ,” he accused. Hannah bit her lip then picked up where Castiel had left off with the loose nylon thread. She muttered something. “What?”

“She told me she thinks you’re seeing someone.” Hannah lifted her head and pinned Castiel under her gaze. He stared back.

“Is she just telling this to everyone?” he asked. He couldn’t keep the acerbic tone from his voice.

“I don’t know. Listen, all she says is you’re going out with ‘a friend’ more often,” Hannah said.

Castiel screwed his eyes shut and wiped both hands over his face. “Damn,” he muttered. The mattress bobbed as Hannah pulled herself to a sit.

“ _Are_ you?” she asked, one of her hands tugging at his forearms. “Castiel, just tell me, are you seeing someone?”

“I’m not.” He dropped his hands and glared, though Hannah remained undeterred.

“But?” she pressed.

“But nothing.”

“But something.”

“I’ve met a friend, yes.” Castiel pulled away a little. “We spend time together, yes. But we’re not dating.”

“Are they asexual, too?”

Castiel would never have admitted it, but he still got a little thrill when he heard the word roll off Hannah’s tongue so easily.

“No,” he said. “His name is Sam. He’s a law student.” He thought. “He’s too tall and kind for his own good.” He caught sight of the expression on Hannah’s face and his own face collapsed into a scowl. “Listen, I know everyone expects—“

“Calm down.” Hannah arranged herself so her legs sprawled across the floor in a mirror of Castiel’s. “I’m just…” She picked at bits of lint on her pants. “I think everyone jumps to the conclusion because they worry.”

“Yeah, I know, I got my wallet and phone stolen on my birthday out of worry.”

“Not just that. I mean that it’s good for people to have real connections beyond just family.”

“Meg—“

“Is basically our weird stepsister.” Hannah tilted her head and gave Castiel a look. “We grew up with her. I mean making connections that weren’t handed to you as a kid. I mean connections that you make on your own, as an adult, that turn into something as strong as what you have with family. Those are valuable.”

Castiel didn’t speak immediately, grinding the heel of his shoe into the hardwood.

“I’m going to celebrate Thanksgiving with Sam’s family on Saturday. In South Dakota.” Hannah’s face burst into a wide smile.

“And you met him when?”

“A few months ago.”

“So there’s something different about him.” Castiel huffed and leaned back, Hannah moving with him.

“Keep me posted, okay?”

Castiel gave her a side-eye. “And should I be telling you the same thing about Paul?” he asked. Hannah scrunched up her face and abruptly moved to a stand.

“That’s enough heart-to-heart for the evening,” she said. “Come on, let’s see if we can round people up for playing cards.”

***

Castiel had just folded in the latest round of poker when he heard his cell phone ringing. He slipped it from his pocket just enough to see Sam’s name and left his cards facedown on the table. Balthazar would peek, but he’d been losing anyway. Castiel slipped into the empty hallway and was already smiling when he brought the phone to his ear.

“Very sneaky of you,” Sam said. Voices garbled in the background; Castiel’s smile widened.

“Did you accept?”

“’Course,” Sam said. “Charlie’s cool. We’re playing Trivial Pursuit.”

“Poker over here. I’m losing.” Castiel leaned against the rough wood paneling. “I just thought you might like spending the day with other people.”

Sam exhaled a light laugh. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, it’s been a nice day. Charlie’s friends are…lively. And Dorothy is a hell of a chef.” Castiel hummed, and for several long seconds neither of them said anything. Sam’s breathing whistled down the phone line; it made Castiel rest his temple against the wall and feel something in his core relax.

“Well,” Sam said. “Still up for South Dakota?”

“I’m excited,” Castiel said honestly. Sam laughed again, this time with an edge of embarrassment. “I’m serious.” Castiel frowned.

“Let me know if you still feel that way after Ellen’s roped you into kitchen duty.” A pause. “I wanted to ask. Usually I take a Greyhound up there, but you have a car, so…”

Castiel snorted. “Yes, I’ll drive us.”

“I’ll help pay for gas money.”

“I promise, it’s fine.”

Someone on Sam’s end of the line called his name. “Oh, hey, it’s my turn,” he said.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Castiel promised.

“Bye.”

He kept the phone lingering near his ear a few seconds past the sound of Sam hanging up. He felt caught in an eddy of warmth, like talking to Sam had injected a shot of dopamine. He wondered if, maybe, this was what people meant when they talked about crushes and romance. The thought brought him up short, made him pull away from where he’d been leaning against the wall. He ran his thumb along the edge of his phone in reflection then abruptly pocketed it.

***

Castiel got fifteen minutes between pulling into his driveway and Sam rapping at his front door. He’d planned to give himself at least an hour, except he and Hannah had fallen into talking after breakfast, and it hadn’t felt right to leave too soon when they lived hours away now. She’d gripped at him a little too hard when they’d said goodbye.

It resulted in Castiel stuffing the first shirts and pants he could reach into his duffel and trying to remember where he’d left his car charger. It took him a moment to realize that Sam’s knocking had tapered off, after which he swore and jogged to the front door. He just caught Sam starting to round the house to the back yard.

“I’m here,” Castiel called out, making Sam turn his head. “You can come wait; I need to find my car charger.”

Fifteen minutes later, after a scouring of the couch cushions and double-checking for locked windows, Sam put Castiel’s duffel into the back seat and they pulled away from the house. Castiel peered at his home through the rearview mirror as it grew smaller.

“I don’t think I’ve ever traveled for a holiday,” he told Sam.

“Never?”

“My family is more or less all in this area,” Castiel said. “No reason to.” He watched the neighborhood blur past his window. “That’s how we work. We go away for school but almost everyone comes back.”

“All of them?”

“Except for the ones who end up being ostracized.” Castiel slowed for a red light and looked over to Sam. “I really am sorry for running late. Hannah was there, and I haven’t seen her for months—“

“Hey, I get it,” Sam said with a wave of his hand. “Undergrad was hard, being away from Dean.”

“Dean,” Castiel echoed without thinking.

“What about him?”

“He’s going to hate me.”

“I’ll let him know.”

“ _Sam_!”

Sam chuffed. “Then don’t say ridiculous things. You guys will get along fine. And if you don’t, well, there’s plenty of good people my brother isn’t buddy-buddy with.” Castiel pursed his lips while Sam reached out to turn up the radio. “Trust me, Cas,” he said. “They’re all going to love you.”

Castiel tried to believe this while Sam told him the story of the time he’d shown up at a client’s house and found the woman who had called him as well as her husband, looking more than a little apprehensive.

“I mean, you could tell he’d found out this was happening a few hours ago,” Sam explained while they sped down the highway. “They have this look.”

“Did I have that look?” Castiel asked.

Sam glanced at him, thoughtful. “A version of it,” he said. Castiel tilted his head to indicate Sam should continue.

“But it was, without a doubt, some of the worst three-way I’ve ever had,” Sam continued. “And I thought, for sure, I wasn’t going to see them again. Except I got a call a week later. Went back over there. And something must have happened, because that was some of the best three-way I’ve ever had. They even made me breakfast in the morning.” He laughed. “I see them at least once a month, now.” Castiel laughed, too, watching the landscape speed past.

“Can I ask something?” he asked.

“Mm?”

“Do you overall like the sex work? Overall?”

Sam rubbed his chin and tilted his head. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I do. Sure, you get the assholes sometimes, but most of the time I go in there and make someone feel great. I dunno, I think there’s way worse things to be doing.” Sam cast him a sharp look. “You don’t mind me talking about work, right?”

“I like it.”

“I don’t really have anyone to tell these stories to,” Sam said. His hands had tangled in his lap. “And there are some good stories.”

“Tell me them,” Castiel said. Sam’s eyes brightened.

***

Bobby Singer lived in an old farmhouse that made Castiel think of every horror movie he’d ever seen. He found himself staring at it and the surrounding graveyard of cars while Sam unloaded their things from the back seat. A wiry brown dog sitting on the porch watched them like it was trying to decide whether and how to launch an attack.

“So, is Bobby an uncle?” Castiel asked, accepting his duffel from Sam.

“Not by blood,” Sam said. He led the way toward the house and didn’t seem perturbed when the dog moved to a stand, its whippet tail making slow, low sweeps. “He’s more like a father to Dean and me. Half raised us.” He gestured to the maze of cars. “Can’t tell you how many summers we spent playing out here.” Castiel examined a rusty, wheel-less Chevy and resisted the urge to call it child endangerment.

They trudged through a swiftly falling dusk across the battered lawn, and the dog made the executive decision to start barking. Castiel hesitated, but Sam continued unperturbed. Castiel situated himself a little behind Sam and kept going.

The door groaned open and the kind of yellow light that came from old incandescent bulbs painted over the dog’s hide, revealing it to be brindle. The dog twisted around and its tongue poked out while it panted at the man behind it. Sam raised an arm; the man waved back.

“There was an accident on the interstate,” the man called across the lawn. “Didn’t give you no trouble, did it?”

“We just missed it.”

They reached the short set of porch steps, and Castiel could see the grimy, holey shirt and baseball cap pulled low over a soft, bearded face. The man looked like the sort Castiel regularly saw at gas stations and auto shops.

“This Mr. Milton?” the man asked; he had tugged at the brim of his cap in a way that looked habitual. The brindle dog settled on its owner’s boots, its tongue lolling in a dog laugh.

“Castiel,” Sam said. His hand landed on the small of Castiel’s back. “Cas, this is Bobby.”

“Thank you for letting me come,” Castiel said, and stuck out a hand. Bobby took it; his hands were brindle just like his dog, a base of pale skin spattered with freckles and hair and stains that must have been oil or dirt.

“Hell, one more don’t make a difference at this point,” Bobby said. “We’ll still be eatin’ Ellen’s food a month from now.”

“And enjoying it,” a woman’s voice carried out from inside the house. Bobby’s face split into honest amusement. A second later, a middle-aged woman with a mane of brown hair appeared with a wooden spoon in one hand.

“Sam,” she said with warmth, holding out her arms, and Castiel watched Sam bend a little to hug her and offer her his cheek for a kiss. Sam introduced Castiel again; Ellen’s hand felt bony and dry and warm wrapped around his.

He and Sam were ushered into the front hall where their duffels banged against the wall and the dog got underfoot with its sweeping whippet tail. A clatter of footsteps resounded from somewhere above, and then a sweep of blond hair appeared to leap up and wrap her arms around Sam’s neck with a small squeal and a garble of “Sam! It’s been fucking forever!” and “Joanna Beth, language,” from Ellen.

Somehow, they all squeezed out from the hall, Ellen took their bags, and Castiel stood among a small flock of words pouring from everyone while they told Sam about how he’s gotten taller or too skinny or asked him about law school. Bobby nudged the dog back onto the porch. Another flush of movement, and Castiel was guided to a kitchen simmering with heat and the smell of cooking meat. A man with a lean look to him stood guard over a boiling pot, and when he came over to greet the newcomers, Castiel learned that his name was Rufus.

He set to reciting their names in his head while the blond girl — Jo — stationed him in one of the kitchen chairs and asked him what he wanted to drink.

“Just water for now,” he said, then glanced over and caught Sam sitting on the other side of the table, laughing at something Rufus had said. He caught Castiel’s eye and his smile grew encouraging. Castiel turned his head to thank Jo for the glass clinking with misshapen ice cubes and told himself to get it together. Sam had family with whom to catch up and didn’t have time to babysit.

“Now Castiel,” Ellen said from the stove, whapping the wooden spoon against the edge of a casserole dish to dislodge the last bit of sauce. “I’m afraid Sam hasn’t told us much about you, but I hear you do museum work?”

“I’m a curator of ancient art,” Castiel said in a rush of relief. Getting-to-know-you talk was easy; he could do this.

That first hour, he got drawn into talk about ancient civilizations and had a hard time hiding his surprise when Bobby and Rufus closed in on him with discussions about ancient Greek religious rituals and Sumerian lore that made him eventually ask if they had studied this stuff.

“Not the sort of studying you pay money for,” Ellen called over. “It’s just another weird hobby along with the car retirement home out back.”

“I never even went to college,” Rufus said, taking a long pull from his beer before returning to the job of mashing potatoes. “But I got a library card and time to hang around the Internet, don’t I?”

Castiel blinked then looked over at Sam. He was hiding a grin in his hand.

Ellen had just popped the green bean casserole into the oven when there was a knock at the front door. Bobby went to answer it, and a few minutes later he returned with a crop-haired woman bearing a foil-covered bowl and a teenage girl with a Tupperware container of cookies. Another round of greetings revealed the woman to be Jody, the local sheriff, and the girl to be her daughter, Annie. Castiel watched Jody reel Sam down for a long, hard hug.

Not ten minutes later, a mulleted boy, Ash, rolled in. By that point, the kitchen had become warm and crowded enough to make Ellen shoo out everyone who wasn’t lending a hand with the cooking.

“Hey, come on,” Jo said, appearing at Castiel’s shoulder. He turned just enough to realize that she had grabbed both his and Sam’s duffels. “I can show you where you’ll be sleeping.”

He followed her up a set of musty, shadowed stairs and down another hall until she opened one of the doors to a small bedroom with two full-sized beds. The bedspreads were matching Fanta orange with a milling pattern of bright, ‘60s-style flowers. Castiel found himself inexplicably charmed.

“Just as a warning, I doubt Bobby owns sheets younger than me, so they might smell like mothballs.” Jo dumped the duffels at the foot of the bed and gave Castiel a toothy smile. He tried to think about who that smile reminded him of and settled on Meg. “But I promise they’re clean.”

“Noted,” Castiel said and tried to smile back. She leaned back on her feet and crossed her arms.

“So, I’m genuinely sorry about this, but I’m gonna have to ask because it’s either me doing this now or someone doing it louder and in front of more people later on.”

“Um.”

“You two an item?”

Castiel’s heart battered against the walls of his chest. “No,” he said. His voice was strained, and it made Jo drop her arms back to her side.

“Get that a lot, do you?”

“A bit.” He tried to come off as nonchalant, but he thought the timbre of his voice ruined that. Jo shrugged.

“I’m asking because we were real surprised when Sam said he was bringing someone. He isn’t the type to invite friends to our weird little family functions.”

Castiel blinked, and his voice returned to normal when he said, “He isn’t?”

Jo leaned forward and her voice became conspiratorial. “Listen, the only other time he did that was five years ago with his fiancée. So yeah, we’ve been wondering.”

Castiel’s face flushed. He squinted at Jo and worked over her last few words. Fiancée. Sam had never mentioned a fiancée. Which, really, that shouldn’t matter, but also. Fiancée?

Jo’s expression had grown worryingly shrewd — another echo of Meg — so Castiel stuck his hands in his pockets. “We’re friends,” he said. “Anything else you need to know? A full history of health? References, maybe?”

“Aw, come on.” Jo reached out and punched at his upper arm. “We’re all just nosy, that’s it. And we care about Sam.”

“’We’ being…”

“Um, me and Rufus and mom mostly. Bobby listens in but won’t admit it.”

“So no ‘you break Sam’s heart I break you’ speech?”

“Nah,” Jo said. She started for the door, looking downright chipper. “We’d let Dean handle that one. You should see him in action. He’s _great_ at it.”

***

By the time Dean Winchester _did_ appear at the front door, Castiel had built him up to such a state that he half expected a football player-slash-movie star.

And sure, he was handsome in a way that made Castiel certain that the Winchester parents had been an extremely attractive couple. But he was also bow-legged and had a sleepy kid — Ben — drooling on his shoulder. When Sam brought Castiel forward to introduce him, Dean had to wipe what looked like jelly from his hand. That helped slough off some of the intimidation.

“It’s always a given,” Dean explained, “that Ben’s got strawberry jelly somewhere on him. Kid eats the stuff like crack.” His handshake was firm. “Anyway, nice to finally give a face to the name.”

“Same,” Castiel replied. He could feel Sam’s hovering presence like a physical thing, and the side of his mouth quirked higher in a rush of confidence. “The way Sam talked, I thought you’d be taller.” Dean’s mouth narrowed to a delighted ‘o’ and someone barked out a crack of laughter.

“He’s a smartass,” Dean told Sam. “As if we don’t have enough of them running around.”

Sam shrugged, beaming.

Lisa, an athletic looking woman with dark eyes and waves of equally dark hair, appeared at Dean’s elbow to take Ben. While she introduced herself, Castiel watched from the corner of his eye as Dean and Sam met in a long, back-slapping hug. Sam ducked his face into his brother’s shoulder briefly. It made Castiel think of Hannah.

The house was properly full now. Jo and Annie had disappeared somewhere, Bobby flicked on the football game, Lisa was following Jody upstairs to put Ben to sleep for a bit before dinner, and Dean and Sam were talking in a way that made Castiel hesitant to interrupt them. Instead, he did what he knew from experience would get him good points with the hostess and wandered into the kitchen to offer his help to Ellen. Within a few minutes, she had him on cranberry sauce duty.

He suspected that Jo had already slipped her mother the update on Castiel’s relationship to Sam because Ellen now treated him with more curiosity than evaluation. She got him into talking about his family, and for the rest of dinner preparation, she listened to him describe life as a middle brother between two sisters and having a motely crew of cousins just to make life interesting. She, in turn, discussed growing up a military brat and being a single mother by her thirties and helping to half-raise both Sam and Dean after, “poor Mary passed and John became a drunken bastard.” The way she spoke made it clear she thought Castiel already knew about that last part. She didn’t see the way his spoon hovered over a quivering pile of cranberry sauce; when Ash wandered in looking for another beer, Castiel started scraping at the inside of the can again.

He couldn’t even properly name his reaction. Yes, granted, he’d gathered that Sam’s mother had died, but he’d had to piece that together on his own. And he’d never heard Sam outright speak of a drunken, absent father. Only about foster care and vague mentions that other people, Bobby and Ellen and someone named Pastor Jim, had a heavy hand in Dean and Sam’s upbringing. And then the fiancée.

Castiel knew he had no right to this information, but it just made him wonder, that was all. Couldn’t blame him for wondering what else Sam didn’t want to tell him. Didn’t trust telling him.

By eight, Ellen sent Castiel to the living room to announce dinner. After that came a barely controlled melee of clacking, mismatched plates and people searching for more forks and everyone trying to claim the gravy boat. The table could only hold so many people, so half of them leaned against the countertops still littered with dirty pots and potato peels. Castiel ended up between Bobby and Jody, bumping the latter with his elbow every time he slid his fork across his plate. He listened to Jody discuss raising teenagers with Ellen on one side and Bobby and Ash complain about their football teams’ performance on the other. The food coalesced rich and warm in his stomach; it tasted different from what he’d eaten yesterday, though he couldn’t have said how.

After the desserts had been mostly picked over, people began to disperse back into the living room. Jody and Lisa together were able to usher Ellen out of the kitchen and take over dish duty; Castiel joined them out of a loss for what else to do.

“You really don’t have to,” Jody said while he collected plates still rimmed in gravy and cranberry sauce. “You were helping Ellen cook, weren’t you? Cooks don’t have to do clean up, it’s the rule.”

“I enjoy it,” Castiel replied with a small smile, and the two women capitulated to his help.

They had put away most of the leftovers and were just tackling the silverware when a loud thump came from the living room. Thirty seconds later, Jo came in with a red-faced Ben perched on her hip, his face buried in her shoulder.

“Someone got a shiner running up the steps,” Jo reported, handing a squirming Ben to his mother.

“Och, sweetheart.” Lisa pushed back the fringe of Ben’s hair and revealed a blue patch of broken vessels. “You want an icepack for that?”

They set Ben up with a pack of frozen peas and stationed him at the table. He soldiered through it for five minutes before he started getting fussy and weepy, and Lisa carried him to the upstairs bedroom to settle him down with a movie. Jody and Castiel had been working for another several minutes when Dean arrived with that casual, bow-legged lope of his and announced himself as the rearguard in dishwashing.

Jody left to collect the remains of the appetizer table that had been set up in the living room, leaving only the clank and splash of Castiel washing pots and the squeal squeak of Dean striding across the kitchen to put dishes away. Castiel kept sneaking looks at him. The third or fourth time, his heart rose in his throat when he realized that Dean was looking back. A beat, and then Dean tilted his head back and gave a smile that Castiel felt like he’d seen in bars.

“You know,” he said, “for all that Sam likes to talk about you, I’m realizing I still had no idea what to expect.”

“Same, I think,” Castiel said. He lowered the pot he’d been working on back into a small hill of bubbles. “Or, I had a vague idea and you…didn’t meet it. Not quite.”

Dean guffawed and stuck a handful of forks into a drawer. “Good way or bad?”

“Neither,” Castiel said honestly. “It’s what comes of hearing about someone through their little brother. Turns out you’re more or less just another person.” He frowned abruptly, wondering if he’d just said too much of his mind. Dean, however, snorted, still half smiling while he stacked up clean plates.

“I see why you and Sam get along,” he said. He hefted the load of plates and walked to the corner cabinet. Something about the tone in which Dean had said that, or maybe Castiel’s own defensiveness, made him half expect the next thing out of Dean’s mouth to be an inquiry about the nature of his and Sam’s relationship. But maybe Jo had been in communication with Dean as well because when he’d slapped the cabinet door closed again and turned, he said, “Can I ask you a favor?”

Castiel blinked. “Sure,” he said.

Dean rubbed at the back of his neck and braced himself against the countertop. He had abruptly lost the grinning, smooth swagger.

“Sam’d give me an earful for saying it,” Dean said to the floor then lifted his head enough to look at Castiel through his lashes. “And I’m willing to bet you already do this because you seem like that sort of guy, but…” He gave a rough laugh and crossed his arms. “Would you be able to just…keep an eye on him?”

“An eye?” Castiel’s hands had sunk into the soapy water again without him registering it.

“You know, make sure he eats and sleeps once in a while. I know the kid, he gets in a certain zone and he starts to forget he’s got a body as well as a brain.”

Castiel considered this. “He works in my office a lot,” he said. “And I nudge him toward the café when I can.”

“Yeah,” Dean nodded. They kept watching each other from across the kitchen. Dean’s face had grown drawn and for an instant Castiel knew, _he knew_ , Dean had somehow found out about the sex work. “I just don’t see him as often as I used to,” Dean continued. “Especially not compared to before Lisa and Ben.” He straightened. “God, that makes it sound like anyone can replace anyone else. It’s not that, it’s just—“

“You’re making your own ways,” Castiel offered. “And it feels like you can’t do your job anymore.” He smiled. “This morning, I spent six hours talking to my little sister before she had to drive four states away again. I miss her like burning, of course I do. And of course I’d feel better knowing someone was watching out for her. Right now all she has are a few casual friends, a strained roommate, and a cheating boyfriend.”

Dean’s arms dropped back to his side. His head tilted.

“What’s her name?”

“Hannah.”

Dean’s expression softened. “Well, then.” He cleared his throat. “Glad, um. Glad I don’t have to explain why…” He shrugged. “He likes you. He really likes you. Haven’t seen him take to anyone this way since Jess. So I figured, maybe you’d care about him enough. Give him a kick in the pants when he needs it. Kick someone _else_ in the pants when he needs it. Just..be around.”

The voices in the living room sounded muffled; the fluorescent-lit space between him and Dean somehow hyper present. A rise-fall of emotion moved inside Castiel when he nodded and told Dean that he would.

***

Castiel had fallen into a quiet reverie of gleaming pans by the time Sam found him.

“Why are you still working?”

Castiel made a soft, burbled sound that had meant to be a “what?” He cleared his throat and slid a wide soup pot into a lower cabinet. “Work still needed to be done,” he said. He straightened to find Sam leaning against the kitchen’s doorway with his hands tangled together. He looked flushed; his nose had a pinkness to it.

“C’mon.” He held out a hand. “I didn’t invite you to be the indentured servant.” Castiel didn’t move. Sam dropped his hand and lowered his brows. “Did Dean say something?”

“No,” Castiel said. He moved to the rack of drying dishes again. “Why?”

“He’s been known to put his foot in his mouth.” Castiel wanted to ask whether Sam’s fiancée had ever had that experience.

“Listen,” Castiel said, letting a frying pan dangle by his side. “I’m not stellar at just…inserting myself in a group of people I don’t know. At least this way I’m being useful.”

Sam pursed his lips. “Don’t worry. You’re already entrenched in Ellen’s good books. Everyone’s asking where you are.”

“Liar.”

“No, actually. You don’t have to talk. Just watch some football.”

“I don’t understand football.”

“We’re cheering for the blue team.” Sam grinned. Castiel relented. He set the frying pan back onto the rack and followed Sam down the short hall.

The living room was littered with people slouched on the couch, sitting on the floor, leaning against the wall. The dog had been let inside, and as soon as Castiel entered, it trotted over to snuff at his pants. Its tail kept up a steady whip.

Somehow, Castiel got settled into an armchair and handed a beer. He sipped at it, letting himself become preoccupied with the cold, yeasty taste while he watched small figures dash across a green lawn and people chatter around him. He fell into listening to Annie complain about school to a sympathetic Jo.

The evening rolled on; the game ended. Someone flipped through the channels and settled on a reality show about refurbishing houses. Castiel had curled up on the couch like a cat; the dog sat beside him in easy scratching range. Every so often it would shift its head to let Castiel’s fingers reach a different angle.

A skein of cold air slipped up his pants leg. He lifted his head a little and realized that the living room had grown emptier. He could hear people down the front hall. Jody, Annie, and Ash had disappeared, as had Bobby and Ellen. Jo and Rufus sat side by side on one of the sagging couches arguing about whatever they were watching on the television. On the other couch, Dean and Lisa spoke in low voices with bowed heads; they looked like Castiel’s parents used to when they were discussing grown up things. Slumped against Dean’s side was Sam, his mouth a little agape, his eyelids shifting in REM sleep. He looked soft; he looked utterly like Dean’s little brother. Castiel’s gaze shifted, and he saw how Dean’s fingertips rested casually on Sam’s inner arm.

Bobby strode in then, the brindle dog on his heels. He pulled at his mouth then announced, “That damn weatherman needs to be fired. We got the freezing rain after all.”

Like the words had flicked on something in Castiel’s brain, he became aware of the low, steady pelting over their heads.

“I can do it,” Jody’s voice grew louder until she appeared at the hallway’s entryway just in front of Ellen; Annie and Ash trailed behind. “I live fifteen minutes away; I can make it.”

“You’ve had a few and your car isn’t even all-wheel,” Ellen told her practically. “Jody, hon, it’s an ice rink out there. It’s no trouble to rustle up a few extra sleeping places.” Jody looked torn, and for a moment it looked as if she might start arguing. Then she pursed her lips and stuck her hands into her back pockets.

“Annie and I will sleep on the floor,” she said.

“No, no, we can figure this out.” The entire room watched now as Ellen surveyed them. “Rufus and Ash are used to couch surfing; they can sleep down here. There’s the guest room with the two full-sized beds. We can have the girls all sleep in there; Jo and me and then Annie with Jody. Dean and Lisa and Ben can keep their room with the inflatable mattress. Bobby in his bedroom. Which leaves…” She tilted her head at Castiel. “You and Sam would get the room with the single bed, but I can set up the cot for one of you.”

For no discernable reason, Castiel’s chest did a flip-flop. Then he nodded. “Of course, it’s not a problem,” he said.

From the far couch, Sam made a snuffling snort.

***

Castiel leaned against a battered dresser and watched Ellen shake out an army cot.

“I really am sorry for kicking you out of a proper bed,” she told him, striding past him to reach a closet. She extracted a pillow and a pink felt blanket from it.

“It doesn’t look like Sam would fit in the cot,” Castiel observed. Ellen laughed and shook the blanket out to settle it on the cot.

“From painful experience, I can tell you he doesn’t,” she agreed. “He used to, but then that one summer happened and suddenly half the things in the house were too small for him.” Castiel grinned at the mental image of a gawky, coltish Sam rambling around Bobby’s house.

After Ellen left him, Castiel took his time unpacking his things from his duffel. He made an excursion to the bathroom and spent a few polite minutes brushing his teeth alongside Lisa. Then he returned to the bedroom, changed into a pair of sweats and his favorite ratty sweater, fell into the cot, and curled in on himself. The freezing rain continued its tattoo against the roof.

He couldn’t have said whether he’d already fallen asleep or was just edging into it when he heard the door squeal open. A few muttered, male voices floated into the room, then silence save for measured treads. Sam trying to be sneaky, Castiel realized. He would have laughed if he’d been more cognizant.

Instead he listened, his eyes barely slit open, while Sam pulled pajamas from his duffel and changed in the light of a single-bulb lamp. It was funny because Castiel had the distinct sense that this was a scene straight from one of the pornos Balthazar watched. Sam had a nice body. The light fell across his abs and the smooth ripple of muscle across his shoulders. Castiel slipped his eyes shut out of a sense of privacy and, as had become habit, tried to analyze his reaction. Admiration, mostly. Sam was attractive—that had been established a long time ago—but Castiel wasn’t sure what to do with the idea.

The bed creaked. Castiel opened his eyes again and saw Sam sliding his long legs under a moth-eaten set of blankets. Sam glanced in his direction; he paused.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” Sam asked in a low voice.

“No,” Castiel lied. He shifted under his covers and listened to the pelting rain swell and retreat.

“Nasty weather,” he commented. Sam nodded. “Is everything okay?”

“Sure.” Sam tugged up his blankets. “Dean and I have been talking the last few hours.” Castiel didn’t speak, shifting so that he could face Sam properly. Sam had rested his hands on his stomach and stared up at the ceiling; the single-bulb lamp divided his face into sharp areas of shadow and light. “I think.” Sam stopped, wrinkled his nose. “I think Dean knows something.”

“About work?”

“Yeah.” Sam turned his head to look across the space separating them. “He doesn’t know exactly what I’m doing. But I’m, uh.” He snorted. “I think he’s getting suspicious that I don’t need to borrow more money from him. Only Dean Winchester.” Sam laughed. “He probably thinks I’m swindling college kids in pool games.”

“What did you tell him?”

“That I have some scholarships. Waste of breath; he can tell when I’m lying. It’s just a matter of how much he’s willing to snoop.”

Castiel frowned. “What will you do if…”

“If he finds out?” Sam shrugged. “No idea. I try not to think about it.” A roll of thunder rattled the room. Sam reached out for the lamp. “Got a bit of a drive tomorrow,” he said.

Castiel watched Sam until the yellow light cut out.


	6. The Mines With A View

By December, Sam had become enough of a fixture in the office that people regularly invited him to happy hours and peoples’ birthday celebrations, which he accepted. And he spent enough time stretching his legs in the museum’s galleries that Charlie offered to make him an official tour guide.

“You probably know more about these exhibits than the professor over there,” she said on a Thursday two weeks before Christmas, leaning against the office’s doorframe.

“Thanks,” Castiel said as Sam guffawed. Charlie looked like she was ready to add more, except then the radio perched on her hip crackled with the news that there was a visitor kicking up a fuss at the information desk. Charlie made a face and disappeared.

“You could do it,” Castiel said as Charlie’s footsteps faded. Sam lifted his head from his notebook.

“What, be a tour guide? I took one art appreciation course as an undergrad, Cas.”

“Most of our tour guides are English majors and retirees.” Castiel shrugged. “You can remember facts and figures; I’ve seen you do it. And you like history. You’d be good at it.” Sam twirled his pen in one hand and gave that half shrug, half smile that meant he was humoring someone.

“I’m working two jobs already,” he said. Castiel opened his mouth, caught Sam’s eye, and then dropped his gaze to the computer. What had he been about to say; that Sam should drop sex work and instead lead tour groups? For a fraction of the pay? With hours that were sure to conflict with classes and his retail job? He jabbed at his keyboard and felt himself flush. Sam’s pen started scraping against his paper a few seconds later, and when Castiel snatched a glance at the table, Sam looked untroubled. He hadn’t gleaned Castiel’s thoughts, then.

A half hour later, Sam started packing up his notebooks and laptop. “I’ll have some free time this weekend,” he told Castiel, hauling his backpack over his shoulders. “Want to do something?”

“Netflix added some new movies.”

“Cool,” Sam nodded, reaching for the door. “I can come around eight on Friday.”

“I’ll order food.”

“No Thai from that one place,” Sam called out as a last reminder before disappearing through the door. Castiel grinned at the place where he had been.

Not ten minutes later, Charlie returned and flumped into the chair on the other side of Castiel’s desk. She crossed her arms on top of a stack of binders and buried her face in them; her hair got tangled in a framed photo of Anna and Hannah.

“How bad?” Castiel asked, scooting the photo out of the way.

“I should go back to programming work,” she mumbled. “I’m _really_ good at that.” She lifted her head enough to gaze balefully at Castiel. “Mr. Thompson doesn’t like the anti-American slant of our Vietnam War exhibit. He wanted to talk to Linda, and I had to explain that she wouldn’t have the patience to listen to him, except not in so many words.”

“Ah.”

Charlie poked at a soapstone hippo perched on the edge of Castiel’s desk. “Should I quit yet?” she asked rhetorically.

“I’d miss you,” he said.

Charlie lifted her head, a smile spreading across her face. “Mr. Milton,” she said. “You’re a big softie.”

“Am I?”

“The biggest I’ve ever seen.” She stood and stretched her arms over her head, then turned and disappeared through the door before Castiel could argue the point.

***

That Friday, Castiel had a pizza waiting on the countertop by eight and was flipping through Netflix. At eight thirty, he checked his phone for texts. Nothing.

_‘are you all right?’_

He got no answer by nine. At nine thirty, he ate two slices of pizza and tried calling. He got voicemail.

_‘please just text me something; I’m getting worried.’_

He fell asleep without meaning to, and woke up with a low _hurk_ when the front door thumped. He nearly fell off the couch and scrambled for the door; he could just see Sam’s outline through the glass. When he opened the door, Sam stood hunchbacked with his hands jammed into his pockets.

“Sorry,” Sam said. “Were you asleep?” His voice rasped a little.

“Yes.” Castiel reached out and grasped Sam’s elbow, tugging him inside. “You need a coat this time of year,” he added.

“I lost it.” Sam pulled his elbow away and crossed his arms over his stomach. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I—“

“Are you all right?” Castiel cut in.

Sam gave him a blank look. “The buses don’t run this late,” he said. “And you were closer than the apartment.”

“Could have called; I’d have picked you up from wherever.”

“Lost my phone, too.”

Castiel’s heart thumped out an extra beat. “Do you want food?” he said.

Sam made an expression like he knew he should politely decline then he gave in and nodded. Castiel led him to the kitchen and leaned against a counter to watch Sam wolf down the remainder of the pizza and two glasses of milk. He did it automatically, like he had to trust his hands and mouth do the work while his mind drifted to some other place. Castiel wondered what had happened to the coat. And the phone.

“Do you want a ride home?” Castiel asked while Sam gnawed on the last crust.

“I think Brady has his buddies there right now,” Sam murmured. Castiel hadn’t quite understood the term ‘glassy expression’ before now. Sam’s face didn’t look like it could move properly; his eyes were too reflective and flat. “I want to sleep, actually.”

Castiel pulled himself away from the counter. “Let me change the guest room’s sheets for you,” he said.

“You don’t—“

“They’re a little grimy. It’ll take me a minute.”

Sam didn’t seem able to find a good response as Castiel strode past him and down the short hall. While he pulled out fresh sheets from the closet, Castiel realized that his hands moved in tiny tremors. He held them in front of his face and watched the fingers jump. His breath rushed in too fast.

Sam had gravitated to the couch by the time Castiel reentered the living room. Castiel could see him in the black mirror made by the blank TV. He jumped when Castiel got near, then relaxed again with a hard exhale. Castiel looked over the thin t-shirt and ratty jeans.

“I have some pajamas that _might_ fit.”

“I—“

“Hang on.”

Castiel rooted through his clothing drawers with an increased sense of controlled frenzy to his actions. He didn’t know…it was something to do with a coat and a phone gone missing and a glassy expression and a massively tall man doing his best to shrink into a small space. He found his biggest, stretchiest pair of flannel pants and the XL t-shirt hanging out in the back of the drawer. He folded the clothes with painstaking care at the foot of his bed. A shadow crossed his work, and when he looked up, Sam lingered at the doorway.

“Can I shower?”

Castiel nodded. Sam disappeared down the hall. Castiel didn’t move; a handful of minutes later, the pipes began to rattle. He grabbed the neatly folded clothes without thinking and added his largest pair of boxers. The water hammered against the walls of the shower stall hard enough that Castiel didn’t think Sam heard as he pulled out a fresh towel and set it on the sink where it couldn’t be missed. He placed the fresh clothes beside the towel then bent down and picked up Sam’s old clothes by the tips of his fingers. He kept them away from his body all the way to the laundry room. He checked the pockets, tossed everything into the washer, and used the concentrated detergent. It only struck him after starting up the washer that he hadn’t seen a wallet in any of Sam’s jeans pockets, either. He went into the living room and searched the couch, the floor, the table. No wallet.

Castiel was back on the couch when Sam emerged from the shower nearly a half hour later. The steam billowed from the bathroom door and made a light fog in the hall. The fire alarm didn’t kick up a fuss; that was probably a bad sign as far as batteries were concerned. Sam looked pink and scrubbed raw; he wore the clothes Castiel had left out with his hair dripping and making black patches across the shoulders of his shirt.

“I put your clothes in the washer,” Castiel said. Sam nodded. “Is your wallet missing, too?” Sam didn’t move. Castiel shifted on the couch, leaned forward.

“Can I go to bed?” Sam asked. Castiel nodded.

He lasted five minutes before entering the bedroom. Sam was a dark lump, the splay of his hair creating a damp patch on the pillow. Castiel perched on the end of the bed; Sam’s feet jammed against the footrest, even as he slept diagonally. Sam shifted a little, and his feet met Castiel’s thigh.

Castiel folded his hand over the foot beside him and settled in to wait. For what, he had no idea. Maybe for Sam’s fidgeting to quiet or for his breathing to even out. Maybe for the washer to give three staccato beeps to signal it had finished. Maybe for Castiel’s eyes to lower on their own accord and for him to slump across the bed, so that Sam’s exhales stirred his hair.

***

Sam was gone when Castiel woke up. The washer stood empty; the towel and pajamas sat in a folded stack at the end of the bed. Castiel did three or four circuits of his house with an aching back from where he’d slept at a bad angle.

A little after nine, he dialed Sam’s number and didn’t remember until the third ring that Sam had lost his phone. In the middle of the fourth ring, the line clicked.

“Yeah?” It was a male, unfamiliar. For several mounting seconds, Castiel stared at the far wall and dredged for something intelligent to say.

“You have my friend’s phone,” was what he came up with.

The voice didn’t answer; something shuffled. In the background, a second voice said something. “Yeah,” the male voice repeated.

“Can he get it back?” Castiel said. “Phones aren’t cheap.” Another shuffle, and now he could discern that he was hearing a hand covering the speaker. Muffled voices. Someone laughed.

“C’mon, give it here, give it here,” drifted from the background. A second later, a new voice carried over. “Who’s this?” Castiel hesitated before giving his name. The person on the other end of the line made a sound like he was sucking his teeth. “What’ll you give for it?”

“What?”

“I’ll take a rim job.” Castiel jerked his phone away. He could hear a fresh chorus of voices followed by a short beep; the screen told him that Sam had hung up. He did another circuit of the house, his phone gripped in his hand. He finally made another call, and when Charlie answered, her voice came out husky.

“Why the hell are you awake already?” she asked; the last word melted into a jaw-cracking yawn.

“I need help,” Castiel said.

“Jesus, Cas, I—“

“Computer help.” A pause. “For a good cause.” He listened to Charlie yawn again.

“Aw, heck,” she said, a brighter tone in her voice. “Come on over, then. Dorothy’s making breakfast.”

***

The kitchen table in Charlie’s apartment bore a second layer of at least three computers, a jungle of wires, and a collection of boxes that had no discernable purpose. Dorothy muttered good-naturedly and squeezed plates of eggs and sausage into the free corners or balanced them on top of the computers. Castiel thanked her when she fit a plate in the palm-sized space beside him.

“Easy peasy,” Charlie said beside him. “I was tracking phone calls in middle school.”

She sat curled up in her kitchen chair with a tank top and long flannels; her chin rested on her knee and her fingers darted across the keyboard to her laptop. A gray, battered cable connected it to Castiel’s phone.

“We’re very impressed,” Dorothy said, settling down on Charlie’s other side. Charlie retaliated with a peck in the corner of Dorothy’s mouth. Castiel nibbled on a sausage and watched Charlie’s screen; he was a little disappointed to realize that it didn’t look a thing like hacker code. Charlie batted the enter key, and a fresh window popped up showing a map and a pulsing blue dot.

“Looks like a ten minute drive from here,” Charlie said, spinning the laptop in Castiel’s direction. He studied the street names surrounding the dot then nodded and reached out to unplug his phone.

“Hang on, you not going to tell us what this is?” Charlie asked.

“Is it something that needs spying?” Dorothy asked. “Or fighting? I can do that.”

“She can do that _super_ well,” Charlie nodded.

Castiel glanced up, his hands slipping the phone into his pocket. “No,” he said at last. “I don’t expect so.”

***

When Castiel slapped his open palm against the door to Sam’s apartment, it took nearly half a minute for Gordon to peer out, a carton of milk in his hand. Castiel waited for Gordon to recognize him before asking whether Sam was in.

“Still asleep, I guess.” He waved his carton toward the bedrooms. “But you can go for it.”

Gordon wandered back into the kitchen while Castiel strode for Sam’s bedroom door and rapped against it with his knuckles. He fully expected to get no answer, so the door swinging open a second later made him step back in surprise. Sam squinted out at him; he had massive bags under his eyes.

“I got your things,” Castiel announced. Sam stared at him without comprehension. Castiel dug into his jacket pockets and presented a stuffed leather wallet and a battered Android.

“They claimed to have no idea where your coat was,” Castiel said. “And I wasn’t sure how much cash you were carrying, so I couldn’t check that. But your drivers license and credit cards are here.” He hesitated. “It looks like your phone got a crack. A little one, at least.” Sam stared down at the items in Castiel’s hands. Then, he grasped his coat lapel and tugged him inside his room. Castiel shut the door behind him and got no warning when two large arms wrapped around him. He startled as Sam ducked his face into his shoulder. When he came to his senses, he levered himself in the balls of his feet and reached up to hook his arms over Sam’s neck. They didn’t speak, though Sam swayed a little. A few times, Sam made deep inhales and it made Castiel wonder whether he was about to cry.

Sam pulled away slowly; Castiel realized just how bleary his eyes were. He withdrew his arms from around Sam so he could present him with the wallet and phone. Sam took them, checked over them briefly, then dropped his hands to his side and looked at Castiel with an intensity that made him want to take a step back.

“How?” Sam asked.

“Charlie.” Castiel shrugged. “She’s secretly a computer genius. She tracked your phone to some apartment on the west side.” Sam dropped his eyes back down to the items in his hands.

“I owe her,” he said. He tilted his head at Castiel. “Were there….”

“A bunch of college students.” Castiel set his shoulders. “They’re not that intimidating if you raise your voice a little.”

Sam made a thin, coughing sort of laugh then retreated enough to sink to a sit on his bed. He stared at his items again like he was having trouble looking away.

“The only other person I know who’d do that,” he said, “is Dean.” Castiel crossed his arms. Sam raised his head. “I have photos on this phone that…” He licked his lips.

“I’m not sure how I’m going to pay you back for this.”

“Don’t,” Castiel said. A long silence followed, one in which Castiel sensed he could have asked the questions that had been battering against the inside of his skull for hours. But he didn’t, mostly because of the slumped angle of Sam’s shoulders.

“Have you eaten breakfast yet?” he asked instead. Sam shook his head. Castiel extended a hand. “Come on, then. I know a place.”

***

The incidents of that weekend slipped into a place where neither Castiel nor Sam talked about it. Part of Castiel wanted to respect Sam’s clear wishes while the other part was two seconds away from grabbing Sam by the shoulders and begging him to just tell him what happened. But he couldn’t do that, of course, and he settled with adding that Friday to the list of things about Sam that he didn’t have access to.

Instead, he busied himself helping to organize various parties. It was his and Benny’s turn to set up the office holiday party and then he’d been conscripted into helping Charlie throw a party for the docents and other volunteers. It took a shockingly long time to apply addresses to a few hundred envelopes. But Charlie blasted the Trans Siberian Orchestra while they worked, and Sam lent a hand when he could. On those days, Castiel could completely forget the glassy-faced boy who’d turned up at his house and instead focus on how Sam’s eyes scrunched up every time Charlie cracked a joke.

Sam was invited to the office holiday party, of course, and he graciously took a break from his studying so he could attend. It was a good night, with Linda’s famous slow cook chili and Benny’s ridiculous spread of desserts. The talking and laughing lasted well past eleven, and midnight had passed by the time Castiel, Benny, and Sam cleaned up and left a line of overstuffed trash bags along the far wall. Benny bid the two of them a good night when they all emerged from the museum to the bite of the winter wind.

Castiel and Sam moved side-by-side, surrounded by the city that burbled with soft night traffic. “Do you want to walk for a little?” Sam asked when they neared the parking garage where Castiel had his car. Castiel slowed, tugged his scarf tighter, then said that he’d be happy to.

Castiel didn’t keep track of where Sam led them; he felt content to match Sam’s pace and watch their reflections in the shop windows. He liked how they looked together; he liked the complement of their heights and their shapes. At one point, as he watched the concrete pass, he caught a glimmer of something falling through the air. He lifted his head and let out a delighted sound.

“Sam,” he called out, and Sam paused to turn around. Castiel held out a mitten; a white clump landed on his thumb. “Snow,” he said. Sam threw back his head and scrunched up his eyes; the snow began to fall in earnest and dapple his hair and scarf. He laughed, opened his mouth, and he was illuminated under a beam of gentle orange streetlight. Castiel rocked forward with the urge to do…something. Leap forward and hug him, gather him close and protect him.

The moment passed. Sam lowered his head and Castiel reminded himself that Sam was an adult and Castiel could no more protect him from the world than he could tell the sky to stop snowing.

“Hey,” Sam was saying. “Can I show you something?”

Castiel nodded, and Sam turned to start a much faster pace down the sidewalk. Castiel had to half jog to keep up.

They spent fifteen minutes moving west, going down dim alleys and through neighborhoods that Castiel had never realized existed. The snow continued to flurry around them until the pavement developed a thin crust of white.

They ducked out of one last narrow road and ended up in front of a dilapidated building. A faded sign identified it as the home of Millers and Co.

“Went out of business decades ago,” Sam told Castiel, jiggling at the handle to a rusted door. Castiel glanced around for police cruisers getting ready to arrest them. The door popped open and Sam grinned back at Castiel. “See? Didn’t even need to pick it.”

“Can you pick locks?” Castiel asked as he followed Sam into the dim building. A second later he snorted. “What am I saying, you spent your childhood up in a car graveyard. Of course you can pick locks.”

Sam laughed, and the sound ricocheted off metal and concrete. Castiel muttered under his breath and grasped for his phone, flicking on its flashlight. The brilliant white beam picked out a cavernous space interspersed with high concrete pillars. It could have been a warehouse or gutted factory.

“You’re taking me into the Mines of Moria,” Castiel said, flashing his light toward the back of Sam’s head.

“Something like that,” Sam said, glancing back.

They walked across the echoing space, navigating beer bottles and trash. Sam yanked open a second door, and the massive space of the warehouse shrunk down to a narrow stairwell. Castiel only hesitated a little before following Sam up the concrete steps that smelled faintly of piss.

The smell and trash decreased the higher they climbed. Castiel started panting when they passed the sixth floor, envying Sam for his long legs that could climb two steps at a time without trouble. Finally, right when Castiel was going to surrender his pride and ask for a break, they reached a thin metal ladder with “roof access” in faded print beside it. Sam went first, the ladder groaning. Castiel stowed his phone and followed Sam into the shadows.

He heard a thump from above, followed by a blast of cold and a glow of orange ambient light. Sam appeared again, gesturing to Castiel before disappearing through the doorway. Castiel stumbled when he climbed out; Sam’s hand caught at his arm. Castiel lifted his head and inhaled sharply.

He and Sam went to the edge of the building’s roof and, without speaking, gazed at the cityscape before them. The low, gray sky and snow lent a surreal cast to the usual bustle of the city and twinkling of yellow light from myriad office buildings. The river glimmered in the distance, and the car headlights passing over its bridges looked like a slow progression of Christmas lights.

“You can see the museum,” Sam said, pointing. Castiel squinted, and yes, there stood the white gleam of the Greco-Roman columns. He grinned, his gloved hands gripping the edge of the roof’s railing. When he looked over, Sam was watching him. The snow dusted his hat and the edges of his hair that trailed out.

“Did you and Dean find this?” Castiel asked.

“When I was about 11,” Sam nodded, shifting his weight on his feet. He snorted, producing a plume of vapor. “We were terrors then; a cocky 15-year-old and the 11-year-old who idolized him. We’d go around the city doing all kinds of stupid things, and that included exploring abandoned buildings. This one has the best view; Dean and I kind of made it our home base when we needed somewhere to go, when things were bad at home or foster care.”

Sam shifted again.

“’Cause see, about three months after we found this place, that’s when child services first took us away from our dad. Up until then we’d always scraped past them, but this time, they picked a week to come when dad had just lost his job and was doing serious overtime in his Miller shift. Dean tried to get us to Bobby or Ellen, but they weren’t blood relatives so the system couldn’t allow it. We were lucky; we managed to stay together. And the woman who took us in wasn’t… _bad,_ really. She just had a lot of kids besides us and Dean and I were too crafty for our own good. We put up with that place for a week before going back to dad on our own.

“The second time was six months later, and I think that’s when dad really started going downhill. It’s when I first realized he knocked Dean around. I wasn’t as sorry to leave him that second time, but Dean and I got put in separate homes. We’d come here to…I dunno. Drink, smoke, plan where we’d go. I didn’t want to go back to dad, not after I realized what he was doing to Dean. Dean told me I was being stupid, how dad didn’t mean it and how he needed us. He kept talking about how he had everything planned out, how he was going to get his GED and drivers license soon. How he’d find a way to get custody of me without having to wait until he was 18, and then how he’d get a good job.”

The snow picked up; Castiel watched how it lit up when it whirled past the streetlights.

“We bounced around the system for almost a year before dad got us back. But I was done with him by then. We got into fights. Dean hated it. I’d come here to cool off, and he’d always come with magazines or whatever and we’d hang out. A couple times Dean brought sleeping bags and we slept here instead of dealing with dad when he was really sloshed. But by then Dean had his own car and he could get us to Bobby’s and Ellen’s more often, so things got better. I just stayed in South Dakota during the summers after that. Dean never did manage to get custody, mostly because dad wouldn’t even have allowed it, but we did okay. I only did one more stint in foster care before I went to college.”

Castiel bit his lip before speaking.

“Is your father still in the city?”

“Dead. While I was in college; a semi smashed into his car.”

Castiel winced. “I’m sorry,” he said.

Sam shrugged and brushed snow from his face. “I’ve forgiven him. I’ve tried to leave it behind.”

Castiel huffed and buried the lower half of his face into his scarf. His father’s death still felt like a raw wound; he couldn’t imagine leaving it behind.

“Was that too much backstory in one dump?” Sam asked.

“No!” Castiel turned. “No, it was…I’m glad you could share that.”

Sam spared him a small half smile, then looked to the city again. Castiel’s gaze stayed on Sam for a moment longer before following suit.

They stayed up there for a long time, longer than Castiel expected. When Sam finally mentioned that they should get going before the snow made driving impossible, Castiel pulled out his phone and realized two hours had passed.

They walked down the many steps, back toward the parking garage, in relative silence. Castiel felt caught up in everything that Sam had told him, arranging the pieces in his mind. He tried to imagine a skinny, teenaged Sam sitting on that roof, doing his homework and imagining a better future. And he’d _done_ it, was the thing. He’d become a man with a promising future in law, someone who people couldn’t help but like. Castiel kept glancing over at Sam with that urge to do something. He rattled the loose change in his pockets, trying to figure out the unlabeled pressure in him.

The pressure only built as he drove Sam to his apartment, while Sam fiddled with the radio and the snow swooped into the windshield and the heater blasted. Castiel’s teeth kept catching at his lip, and he wondered in a series of desperate grasps if this was romance, this was what the swelling music and dramatic shots in movies were meant to indicate. A burning need to reach out and—

Castiel took a turn too fast and swore when his tires skidded on the snow. Sam barely seemed to notice.

They finally pulled onto Sam’s street. Castiel’s heart was slamming against his chest now, and his fingers felt numb on the steering wheel. He needed to do something about it this time; he’d implode otherwise. He slowed the car in front of Sam’s apartment, turned, and opened his mouth with a notion of saying something stupid, something daring.

“You want to go Christmas shopping?” he said.

Figured that now was when his brain would learn how to filter.

“Oh, yeah, great idea!” Sam grinned. “Want to do it on Tuesday? I read that’s when the sales will get really good.”

They agreed on a time and Sam waved as he disappeared into the falling snow and gloom. Castiel watched him go with a distinct sense that he’d missed something.


	7. The Time Everything Went Wrong

Christmas came and went with the usual fanfare. Hannah returned home for winter break, which provided a bright spot among Michael half threatening Anna for a reply to his offer and Gabe stressing while trying to find a reliable replacement for Lilith in the band.

New Year’s Eve was spent in another grimy bar watching Gabe, Meg, Balthazar, and someone named Abaddon perform for a riotous crowd. Castiel thought Abaddon sounded very good; Meg lamented that she was “trying to take over the whole freaking band; she’s going to have to go.” Castiel tried to comfort Meg with vodka, which he regretted an hour later when she got into a scuffle with Abaddon and had to be physically hauled away.

But everything was smoothed out in the end, and Castiel was able to ring in the New Year squished between Hannah and Gabe, with Anna somewhere behind him making out with an attractive guy she’d been eyeing all night. Castiel figured she deserved it after the kinds of messages Michael had been leaving.

At 12:01, he got a text from Sam, who was spending the night at Dean’s place. Castiel grinned too hard when he read it, that warm feeling bursting from him again.

_Happy new year_

And then:

_Hope we get a lot more._

***

The morning that Hannah drove back to school, she swung by Castiel’s house to say goodbye. She gave him a long, hard hug and told him to stop looking like she was disappearing forever. Castiel didn’t have anything clever to shoot back, so he contented himself with placing a kiss into her hair.

He lingered on his front stoop long after her little blue car had winked out of view, his hands wrapped around his chipped mug to stave off the chill. He watched his neighbor take down Christmas lights. The street had the empty, stale feeling of mid-January.

He wandered back inside when the cold started seeping through his slippers and puttered around the house all morning tidying up and feeling generally bereft. It was silly; he didn’t think most older brothers got like this over little sisters going to college. And it wasn’t as if he lacked family in the area. He worried, that was all. Hannah had finally broken up with her cheating boyfriend, sure, but her roommate situation was still fraught and she had seriously begun questioning her major. He wished she was a little closer so he and Anna could lend some help.

Thinking of Anna made Castiel grit his teeth. Michael’s offer from Thanksgiving still hung in the air, and Anna had made no indication of what she thought about it. At this point, Castiel suspected that she was hoping if she ignored Michael for long enough, he’d disappear.

 _Good luck with that,_ Castiel thought glumly while he straightened pillows on his couch. _The last thing Michael understands is how to disappear._

***

January slogged forward through several snowfalls and an added heap of freezing rain. Most days, Castiel had to coax his car to life while bundled up under three layers; he created small shocks of static with every surface he touched.

On a dry, especially staticky Tuesday, Castiel and Sam were having their usual lunch, this time in a small, bustling café that specialized in soups. Castiel, who hadn’t had time for anything besides a few mouthfuls of yogurt that morning, dove into his potato leek like a man on a mission. He didn’t realize until five minutes in that Sam hadn’t eaten more than a few spoonfuls.

“Feeling sick?” he asked, peering at Sam in search of flushed cheeks or clammy skin.

“Mm?” Sam turned from where he’d been staring out of the café’s window. “Oh. No, fine.”

“You sure?” Castiel pressed. “Did you ever get the flu shot like I told you to?”

Sam snorted and dropped his head, making his hair fall in a small curtain. “Jesus. Between you and Dean, I’m going to be hen-pecked to death.”

“Did you?”

“’Course I did. I’m not sick.”

“Well, what, then?”

Sam nudged his eyes up to meet Castiel’s briefly then let them fall back to the window. The steam from his bowl of corn chowder wafted across his profile.

“Today’s January 24,” he said. “And it’s sort of a weird date for me.”

Castiel set down his spoon. “Weird how?”

“It’s Dean’s birthday.” Sam shrugged. “I’m heading up to his place tonight; Lisa’s making his favorite meal.”

“Sounds nice.”

“Yeah. It’s also Jess’ birthday.” Sam frowned. “I’ve never told you about Jess, have I?”

Castiel’s chest thumped. He straightened. “I’ve heard of her,” he said. “From Jo.”

“Oh.” Sam leaned back in his seat, his eyes hovering somewhere around Castiel but not landing on him. “She was my fiancée when I was an undergrad.” Something in his countenance shifted, and Castiel watched, entranced, as a small sun seemed to take over Sam’s face. He placed his hands behind his head and leaned back, looking up at the ceiling and some memory hiding behind it.

“We met in art history,” Sam said. “She was…she was beautiful. And I’m not talking about physically beautiful, though she was that, too. It’s like. She had such a soul. Like a sun. And everything she did just shone with it.”

 _Like you?_ Castiel almost said.

“We were a couple of dumb kids in love,” Sam said, still watching the ceiling. “I proposed a year after we started dating; we were going to be poor together while I went through law school and she painted. Had it all planned out.”

He slid his hands from his head and looked at Castiel. “On Halloween, about five years ago, our apartment caught fire. She was sleeping. I was out with Dean because dad had done something stupid and Dean needed my help to deal with it. So in a way, dad saved my life.” Sam swallowed, and everything in Castiel had to work not to reach across the table and grab Sam’s hand. “Like I said, today’s her birthday, too. Dean and Jess used to love that, doubling up on birthdays. The January after she passed, Dean tried to act like he didn’t need to do anything to celebrate, which was such bullshit. It’s better now, but. Some years I’ve wanted to stay in bed all day on January 24.”

“I didn’t realize,” Castiel said. The restaurant felt muted around them. “You could have just told me you didn’t feel like doing anything today.”

Sam smiled a little. “No,” he said. “No, staying in bed would be the worst thing for me. Jess would kick me in the ass for it.”

Castiel sat slumped in his seat, feeling a little lost and helpless. Sam looked tired, his shoulders hunched and dark circles under his eyes, and Castiel needed some way to reach out to him.

“Five years ago?” he asked, gentle. Sam nodded. “That’s about when my dad died,” Castiel said. He paused, but Sam had tilted his head with interest. “I know, for me, it doesn’t feel like it’s been that long. And sometimes I can’t believe how raw it still is.”

“Yeah,” Sam breathed. He pushed his soup bowl aside and crossed his arms on the table, leaning forward. “Can I ask…?”

“Heart attack,” Castiel said, folding his hands together. “I wasn’t there; I was working in the city at that point. Hannah was out with friends, I think. But Anna was there; she was in her first year of med school and was home for winter break. It was just her and dad, out in our childhood home in the middle of the woods.”

“Your mom…”

“She died years ago, a little after giving birth to Hannah. Hit by a car. I barely remember her.”

Sam’s expression grew sympathetic. “Yeah. My mom died in a house fire when I was a baby. Don’t remember her at all.”

Silence. Castiel inhaled sharply before continuing.

“Anna tells me she was warming up leftovers for dinner when dad started complaining about a pain in his chest. She says she didn’t think much of it until he sort of, um, half collapsed on the living room floor. She panicked, called 911, tried to help him. The ambulance took too long to find the house because it was so remote. He was in bad shape when they reached the house. He was dead ten minutes after arriving at the hospital.”

Castiel blinked; he realized he was staring at his soup. He dragged his eyes up to meet Sam. “He was gone by the time Anna could call us. The funeral was huge. And three months later, Anna quit med school. She bounced around for a year then applied to nursing school. After six months of that, she dropped out and trained to be an EMT.”

Sam didn’t move for several seconds. “I’m really sorry, Cas,” he finally said. “That’s awful.”

They fell silent, the café swelling with light conversation and clattering utensils around them. It felt surreal.

“You know,” Castiel said, “I think it’s nice to talk about this with someone who really understands what it’s like. To lose someone that close to you. I mean, Hannah and Anna understand, but sometimes it’s hard to talk.”

“Yeah,” Sam breathed. “That’s how Dean is about our parents.”

Another bout of silence.

“Hey,” Sam said, suddenly straightening. “Let’s each say good memories of them. It’s something my therapist suggested once.”

“Oh.” Castiel blinked. He squinted at the table, trying to think. “I remember,” he said, “when my dad took all three of us hiking in Yosemite. We were convinced we were going to be eaten by a bear, but not really, because we all knew our dad would be able to fight anything off. To us, he was like a mix of Chuck Norris and Bruce Lee.” Sam laughed, and Castiel had to smile in reply.

“Okay, okay.” Sam tapped his chin. “I remember Jess really loved to bake. Her chocolate chip cookies were _lethal_ , they were so addicting. But there was this one time, she had promised to make cookies for a friend’s party. Problem was, she had been drinking hard the night before and was super hung over. Long story short, she forgot sugar and got the baking soda and powder mixed up and, uh, those were some really interesting cookies. She and I couldn’t stop cracking up about how awful they were.”

There it was again. That expression like the sun was bathing Sam’s face. Castiel had seen versions of it before, but never like this. He leaned across the table, drinking it in like a sunflower, and thought that Jess and Sam must have been the most beautiful couple in the world. A pair of sun souls. This, he thought, must be the magic of romance that got everyone so excited. No wonder, if it made people look like this just from a memory of their partner.

And he was missing something that let him do that. The thought created a ramming pang in the center of Castiel’s chest.

***

February blew in with frigid temperatures and ungodly amounts of work because Linda had gotten the bright idea of cleaning out their archives. It consumed Castiel’s life to such an extent that one Friday, when he was at Anna’s place for dinner, he drew a blank when she asked about his birthday plans.

“Birthday?” he echoed, then, “That’s not until the end of the month.”

“That’s in a week.” Anna looked up from the skillet and frowned. “Seriously, Cas?”

“Um.” Castiel started chopping tomato with renewed vigor. “I guess it slipped my mind.”

“Geeze. What’s eating up your life right now?” Anna asked, sifting her spatula through the ground beef.

“Archive hell,” Castiel said automatically, watching the tomato juice spill across the cutting board. “And a traveling exhibit on King Ramses.”

“Ah.” Silence, save for the hiss of cooking meat. “So?”

“So what?”

“So birthday plans.” Anna set down her spatula and moved across the kitchen to open the fridge. “I’ve already had a talk with the three stooges and they promise not to do anything funky.”

“Right.” Castiel scraped the chopped tomatoes into a bowl and heaved a sigh. “Honestly? The quieter the better, I think. Things are…I’m not in the best mindset for a party right now.”

“Noted.” Anna bumped the fridge closed with her hip, a fresh bottle of wine in her hand. “Tell you what. Give me a list of names and I’ll put together a little dinner. Nothing fancy, just a chance to bring some people together.”

Castiel nodded once, slowly. “Yeah,” he said. “Okay, that sounds good.”

“You going to finally invite that friend I keep hearing about?” Anna added, because of course. Castiel glanced over at her.

“Is this only a big scheme to meet him?” he asked.

“Fuck yes,” Anna said, uncorking the bottle. “You don’t get to spend every other day with this guy without me finally vetting him.”

Castiel turned a little. “I’m not dating him,” he said.

Anna raised her eyebrows. “Did I say that?”

“Seems you’ve been saying that to everyone, yeah.” He’d not planned for his voice to become so acerbic, but it was too late to prevent. Anna pursed her lips and set the wine bottle on the counter.

“Okay,” she said. “Yeah, I know. You’re not dating.”

Castiel had so many other things to say, but he buried them.

***

Castiel sent out invitation texts the next morning. Charlie replied almost instantly and asked if she could bring Dorothy; Castiel approved. Meg, Balthazar, and Gabe promised not to pull any hijinks. Benny said he’d be there, and Hannah even proclaimed that she was making a special trip for it.

 _February 24_? Sam replied when Castiel texted him.

_Are you busy?_

_Damn it, yeah. I had a big job booked for that night, it’s been in the calendar for almost six months._ The next text popped in almost immediately. _I can ask someone to fill in for me._

Castiel frowned at his phone. It took him a moment to realize that he’d assumed Sam was staying away from sex work since that night he’d appeared on Castiel’s porch. But no, he thought, that wouldn’t be practical. Sam needed the rent money. The realization made Castiel heave a heavy sigh.

 _No, don’t worry,_ Castiel texted back.

 _I swear, we’re going to do something fun the next day,_ Sam texted. _You pick whatever you want, I’ll pay._

 _I’ll just enjoy hanging out with you._ Castiel winced almost as soon as the text sent, but it was too late by that point.

***

His birthday came and went with the promised lack of fanfare. Benny put together a small party in the break room at work, which was nice of him. And the dinner went about as Castiel had expected, with Anna and Charlie getting along like a house on fire. No getting drunk. No unexpected trips to motels.

The next day brought a late bout of sleet that turned the roads into small ice rinks. It was too cold for Sam and Castiel to walk around the city like Castiel had proposed, so they made plans to meet at a nearby movie theater.

Castiel had already slipped twice by the time he arrived at the theater, and spent several minutes in the lobby unfreezing and wincing at a sore tailbone. Sam arrived a few minutes later, and as he neared, Castiel saw a small wrapped box in his gloved hand.

“You didn’t dare,” Castiel said as Sam neared, smiling through the mild frostbite on his cheeks. “I said no presents.”

“This isn’t a birthday present, though.” Sam rattled the box. “This is a one-year-anniversary-of-us meeting present.”

Castiel snorted and accepted the box. “I don’t have anything for you,” he said.

“You can give me something next year,” Sam said. He nodded. “C’mon, I have to see you open it.”

Castiel shook his head and pulled away the ribbon, slipping the lid off the box. He pushed aside tissue paper and found a small stone alpaca staring up at him.

“A friend from school went to Argentina for winter break,” Sam explained. “And I told her to get me something cultural. It’s hand-carved.”

“Thanks.” Castiel was grinning as he plucked the little stone alpaca from the box and held it up to the light. It looked philosophically back at him. “He’ll go next to the hippo.”

Castiel felt almost giddy as he packed the alpaca back in the tissue paper and accompanied Sam to buy tickets for the latest action-thriller. He placed the little box in his pocket and kept brushing his fingers against it.

The movie was fine but predictable enough that Sam kept leaning over to crack jokes at the plot holes. Castiel laughed a little too hard each time. The only time he focused on the screen was about two-thirds through the movie, when the music swelled and the leading man and woman kissed for the first time. Castiel watched their fingers grazing each other’s faces, their hair whipping in the breeze. Something hollow and remote thumped inside him.

After the movie, Sam and Castiel lingered on the street for nearly an hour, but the slick roads and falling temperatures made Castiel nervous. He told Sam he was driving him home because he didn’t trust public transportation in this weather. Sam laughed and called him a worrier.

Castiel drove slowly; Sam leaned back in his seat and talked about which internship programs had gotten back to him and which hadn’t. Castiel nodded at the right times while the rest of him sank into a morass of big screen kisses and the little box digging into his side through the pocket and the last time he’d driven Sam home during inclement weather and the way the light played over Sam’s features. It built up like a roaring in Castiel’s ears until his grip on the steering wheel became pale-knuckled. He came to a stop in front of Sam’s apartment with a little too much force.

“Thanks, Cas,” Sam said, gathering his things. “Drive careful, okay?”

“Can I ask you something?” The sentence must have come from someone else; it had to have. No way was Castiel brash enough. Sam paused halfway through unbuckling his seatbelt, his eyebrows raised. Castiel exhaled and ran his hands over the rough fabric of his jeans.

“It’s a favor.” He didn’t look up; he focused on the stark overhead light on his dry hands and jeans. “So if you want to say no, that’s completely fine.”

“You okay?” Sam asked. Castiel winced.

“It would be a favor,” he said again, then lifted his head. “I’ve never kissed anyone before. I’m almost 30 and I’ve never kissed anyone.”

A long beat of silence passed. The sleet made a light sound as it settled onto the car.

“You want—“

“Only if you want,” Castiel cut in. “And it doesn’t…I’m just not sure what I’m feeling and I need to figure something out.” He should have asked Meg, Castiel realized, far too late at this point. “Never mind,” he blurted. “I shouldn’t drag you into—“

“It’s just a kiss.” Sam’s voice sounded like it always did, which somehow surprised Castiel. Warm, low, maybe a little muffled by the stillness of the car and the sleet outside.

A pause.

“It’d help if you looked over here.” Castiel blinked and looked up; Sam was grinning. He’d taken off his hat, and his hair was disheveled. The pressure inside Castiel ramped up. “Relax,” Sam said before leaning forward. Castiel did the same, his seatbelt rasping against his coat. He had a moment to wish that he’d thought to unbuckle it before something dry and a little cold met his lips. He frowned, leaned over more, tried to find his way through the catch of skin on skin. Sam’s large hand landed on his cheek, moved to cradle his face, and something inside Castiel relaxed. Sam wouldn’t hurt him, wouldn’t judge him.

They pulled away after a moment; Sam peered at him through the half gloom. His hand was still cradling Castiel’s face.

“Was that okay?” Sam asked. He sounded like he genuinely needed to make sure. Castiel tilted his head, leaned forward again.

This time he could get a decent grasp of what he was doing, and he found some of the warmth past Sam’s lips. He tasted a little like peppermint. This one lasted longer, and Castiel tried sifting his hand through Sam’s hair. He caught on small knots and spots of cold damp from melted snow. Sam hummed into his mouth. The second time they parted, Castiel realized he was smiling a little. Sam’s eyes brightened in response. “Good?” he asked.

“Yes,” Castiel replied, and was pleased to realize that he was being truthful. Something small and warm and buzzing had taken up residence in his center. He unconsciously placed a hand over his chest, trying to decide whether this had fixed it, whether he’d breached some ravine inside him.

Sam opened his mouth to say something, and Castiel lunged forward to wrap his arms around him and tug him into a hug. The small, buzzing thing erupted into a sun, and Castiel exhaled hard with sheer relief. Sam returned the hug in that wonderful, encompassing way he had, though he was probably confused all to hell by now. Castiel tucked his face into Sam’s shoulder and inhaled his warm scent.

“Thanks,” Castiel said, muffled. Sam shifted, and Castiel pulled away. For the first time he could appreciate how off the rails he’d just taken the evening. He passed his hand over his eyes briefly and coughed out a laugh. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Sam’s head tilted, his expression inscrutable. “Did it help?”

Castiel sniffed and looked out at the windshield again. The sleet had already started piling up on the wipers.

“I’m not sure,” he said. His heart bobbed once, then began to sink.

The seat groaned as Sam leaned forward. “Cas, it’s okay. I swear.” Castiel slumped and blinked when he realized that his eyes and nose had grown heavy. Damn it, he was going to start crying.

A beat of silence, and then Castiel jerked a little when Sam leaned over one more time to place a light kiss on his cheek. Castiel turned in time to see Sam opening the car door and smiling back at him before disappearing into the snow and dimness.

***

Castiel spent the next 48 hours feeling like he was trying to slam together two puzzle pieces that in no way lined up. He tried taking out his aggression on vacuuming, then dishwashing, and it was in the middle of tackling a stack of plates when he finally acknowledged it.

The kiss had been a flop.

Not that it had been unpleasant, but it hadn’t been all fireworks and endorphins and being swept away in pure bliss. It had been. Well. Getting into someone else’s personal space. Sam’s personal space, granted, which counted as a good thing. But the hug had been much better, which Castiel knew was all backwards.

“Goddamn it,” Castiel said aloud, dumping his sponge and plate into the sink. The plate clattered and the sponge squelched, spattering soap suds. He’d thought…if there had been anyone he’d have been able to…

Castiel slumped into a kitchen chair and braced his elbows on his thighs, his hands burying into his hair. He glared at his shoes, and the waves of anger seemed to roll in larger and larger until his body rocked with them. He hated himself. He hated his broken head and his malformed emotions and how all they could do was crash up against everyone else and make them uncomfortable. He needed to try harder; if he tried harder maybe he could finally make sense of it.

Castiel was fumbling for his phone without thinking, jabbing through his contacts until he found the name he needed.

“Cas?” Meg’s voice echoed a few seconds later. “What’s the occasion?”

Castiel kept his eyes trained on the far kitchen wall, his free hand keeping a death grip on his kneecap.

“Nothing, really. You want to go out tonight?”

***

Meg kept shooting glances at him across the few inches of grimy bar and basket of chicken tenders they were sharing. Castiel figured she was just waiting for the right opening to ask him what the hell was going on. He ordered another whiskey in the meantime.

“How many is that?” Meg asked as the bartender disappeared to fill Castiel’s order.

“No idea,” Castiel admitted, picking at an ancient “I Voted” sticker someone had slapped on the bar. When the bartender returned with the whiskey, Meg leaned over and slid the glass away.

“ _Meg_ ,” Castiel said, grasping, but the first few drinks had already reached his head and his aim was off.

“What the hell?” she said, keeping the whiskey well out of reach. Castiel tilted his head and tried to look innocent. It didn’t work. “Did something happen?” Meg continued. “Do I need to beat someone up?”

“No.” Castiel went back to picking at the sticker, gathering dirt under his fingernails in the process.

“But?”

“But what?”

“Jesus, Cas, would you quit it? You’re freaking me out.”

Castiel hunched in his shoulders and tried to decide whether he should abort this ill-conceived mission. But then what? He’d go back to his house, still feeling confused and angry and misaligned. He didn’t want that anymore. He was sick to death of it.

He looked up and found Meg staring at him, looking torn between angry and frightened. He exhaled hard enough to deplete his lungs and scrubbed at one side of his face.

“I don’t think there’s an…um, eloquent way to say any of this,” he said.

“So spit it out.”

Castiel rattled his fingers against the bar.

“I need to have sex with someone and figure out what the deal is. With me.”

Silence. Meg leaned back, her face blank.

“Sex.” She cocked her head. “With me?”

He nodded. Her expression slid into something shrewd.

“Do you actually _want_ to have sex?”

“I just said—“

“No, I mean is there any physical drive behind this, or is it just you being curious?”

“Oh.” Castiel frowned. “The second one.”

“Okay,” Meg breathed. She crossed her arms and squinted at her half-full margarita.

“Are—are you hesitating?” Castiel asked. He scowled. “Seriously, Meg? How many times have you offered—“

“Yeah, and you’re just curious,” Meg snapped back.

“Does it matter why I want to—does that matter now?” Castiel could hear his voice rising in volume. “Are there more rules now? I have to have the right motivation, too? It’s not enough that I’m finally doing what you’ve been bullying me about for fucking years?”

“I’ve never _bullied_ —“

“What the hell do you call my last birthday?” Castiel stood up, unsteady. People were looking over at them now.

“Cas—“

“You don’t get to pull the stunt you and Gabe and Balthazar pulled—” Castiel held out a finger, “—and call that not crossing a line. Everyone’s been a complete _asshole_ about me being asexual, Meg. People that should have supported me, you’ve all been _horrible._ Gabe and Balthazar flat out don’t believe people like me exist, Anna thinks if she keeps pretending I’ll miraculously become that kind of person, you keep _doubting_ me. At every turn you’re there to tell me it’s all in my head, I’m just confused, I haven’t given it a chance yet. As if I haven’t already considered that for years, as if I don’t still worry about it, you dick!”

Meg stared up at him. Castiel exhaled like a bull, swayed, then turned and stumbled for the front of the bar. He could feel people looking at him while he passed.

He leaned against the brick wall outside the bar, his breath coming in heaves that created a small cloud around his head. He dropped his head and stared down at the gray sidewalk crusted in salt and old snow. He stayed like that for almost ten minutes, his teeth rattling and remembering that he’d left his coat—with his phone and wallet and keys—in the bar. He was just about to give up his dignity and go back inside when the bar door opened to release a group of women. Trailing behind them came Meg.

“Here.” She held up Castiel’s coat. He accepted it with a chatter of teeth. Meg settled against the wall beside him, pulling a cigarette from one of her pockets. She lit it with a small click from her zippo and took a few inhales. They watched taxis idle on the curb, waiting for people to pour out of the bars that lined the street.

“Are you serious about wanting to shack up?” Meg asked.

Castiel looked at her from the corner of his eye. She was highlighted blue from the neon sign over the bar. “Yes,” he decided after a moment.

Meg tossed her cigarette to the pavement and ground it with her boot. “No,” she said. Castiel whipped his head over. Meg tucked the lower half of her face into her coat lapels and didn’t look at him.

“You’re asexual, okay?” she said. “You know it. You don’t need me to confirm it for you.”

“What if I do?”

“You sent an expensive prostitute home. What else do you want?”

“His name is Sam.”

Meg looked over at him, her eyes obscured by the faux fur lining her hood. “Are you still in touch?” she asked after a moment.

“He’s my friend.” He didn’t realize what he’d done until the words were out of his mouth. His eyes widened.

“The friend you’re always hanging out with?” Meg took a step away from the wall. “Seriously, Cas? You’ve been hanging out with a callboy all year? And you never thought to ask _him_ to show you the ropes?”

“Don’t tell anyone,” Castiel rushed. “He doesn’t like people to know.”

“Yeah, fine, but my point stands.”

Castiel hesitated. “He’s not just a callboy,” he said. “And no, I’d never ask him because he deals with enough from his clients. Me asking for something like that would be completely tone deaf. It wouldn’t be fair.”

“Seriously? And why is it fair to ask me?”

“Because you’re not a sex worker?”

Meg tugged her hood further over her eyes. When she spoke again, her voice came out muffled.

“Look, I’m admitting I was wrong. I should have believed you when you told me you were ace and aro, and I should have reined in Gabe and Balthazar.”

Castiel stared at her. “And that’s it?” he asked. “You suddenly change your mind?”

“It weirded me out.” Meg pulled out a cigarette and examined it, rolling it between her pale fingers. She stuffed it back into her pocket. “The whole idea was weird.”

“And now it’s not?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“Okay, and what changed your mind?”

Meg shrugged, exhaling a cloud of steam. “I dunno.” She hesitated. “Listen, I’m not interested in being someone’s sexual experimentation. I’ve had enough people use me like that.” She crossed her arms. “And you know what else, I thought you knew that. I thought out of everyone in my life, you’d be the last one to pull that shit on me.”

Castiel felt the blood draining from his face. He watched the side of Meg’s face.

“You’re the one,” he said. “You’re the one who kept telling me I needed to try it out just once, just to see. You’ve _offered_ —“

“Because deep down, I never believed you’d take me up on it.” Meg hunched in her shoulders. “Maybe a few years ago I meant it, but honestly, I didn’t really think about what would happen if you said yes. Turns out I don’t want it.” She huffed. “So. Sorry.” She pushed herself from the wall. “I gotta go.”

“Meg.” He could feel something collapsing, somewhere inside and outside of him.

“We’ll talk later.” Meg pulled up the collar of her coat and started to speed-walk down the pavement.


	8. The Time Everything Went Even More Wrong

Castiel went home, not realizing he could feel more wretched than had just a few hours ago. The next day was a Friday, so he called in sick and spent the day curled up on his couch watching reruns of _Grey’s Anatomy_. The phone rang once with Sam’s name on the caller ID, but the thought of answering made Castiel’s stomach sour. Sam didn’t leave a voicemail. The second time the phone rang, he avoided looking at it, caved in at the last second, and made a small sound of surprise when he saw Charlie’s name. He fumbled for the phone and just managed to answer before it went to voicemail.

“Hello?”

“Cas?” Charlie sounded muffled; something created static that ate up her voice.

“Are you all right?” Castiel asked, feeling for the remote.

“Um.” Charlie made a chattering sound. “I need a favor.” A pause. “I need a place to crash.” Castiel looked around the living room, at the empty chip bags and strewn coat and gloves.

“I’d need to clean up,” he said.

“No!” Charlie jumped in. “No, you don’t, seriously. Jesus, you’ve seen my place, haven’t you?”

“Sure,” Castiel said slowly. “Charlie, are you okay?”

“Not even remotely,” she said. Castiel ducked his head and found himself giggling. “Cas?” Charlie said, her voice rasping in and out of hearing. “Hello?”

“Same here,” he snorted. “Come on over; the door’s unlocked.”

***

Charlie arrived with a blast of cold wind that nearly took the door off its hinges. They had to work together to snap it shut again.

“Winter needs get out of here,” Charlie proclaimed as she tore off her hat and revealed hair so static that it created a small fan around her head. “I’m tired of coats.” Castiel looked Charlie over as if to discern the trouble from her pale, pinched face.

“Would you like tea?” he asked.

“Are you my grandmother? God, yes.” Charlie started struggling out of her coat, dumping her backpack to the floor in the process. Castiel hid a smile while he went into the kitchen to dig out the kettle.

Ten minutes later, he and Charlie sat across from one another at the small kitchen table with mismatched mugs in front of them. Charlie took tiny sips while she stared at a point on the table with her shoulders hunched around her ears.

“I kicked myself out of the apartment,” she told him.

Castiel tilted his head. “You and Dorothy are fighting?”

“Yesss,” Charlie drew the word out. She swung her socked feet and grimaced. “Over money.”

“Money?”

“It’s so plebian.” Charlie scooted her mug to the side and rested her head on her crossed arms. “Dorothy’s in grad school so her income is pretty much in the negative. I’m working at a museum, and I don’t need to tell you how much that pays. Our asshole landlord increased the rent last month. Dorothy still needs physical therapy for the ankle she broke a few months ago. I’m trying to take commissions on programming work, but it’s not enough.” She gazed up at Castiel, baleful. “And this morning I finally broached the fact that Dorothy has rich-ass parents who could help us, at which point she flipped out because she’s already disowned them and refuses to talk to them. So now I’m kind of in the dog house.”

“Ah,” Castiel nodded.

“Sorry that I picked your place to hide,” Charlie said, flipping at the tag on her tea bag string. “But all my other friends know Dorothy, so they’d sit there and try to give me couples therapy.”

“What do you prefer I do?”

“I dunno, make sympathetic noises?”

Castiel hummed and leaned back in his chair, watching the steam float from the surface of his tea. “Poor thing,” he deadpanned. Charlie screwed up her face.

“Never mind. Be sincere or don’t do it at all, asshole.”

Castiel laughed a little and reached out to pull his tea bag from his mug. “It sounds like a relatively minor thing,” he said. “You’ll be making up within a day or two.”

“Sure,” Charlie said, sounding unconvinced. She watched Castiel place his teabag on a small plate. “So why’re _you_ not even remotely okay?”

“What?”

“You said so over the phone.”

“Oh.” Castiel shrugged. Charlie waited, then when she realized he wasn’t going to continue, reached out to poke him.

“Well?”

“It’s pathetic.”

“I need to hear about someone else’s troubles,” she said. “Spill it.”

Castiel curled his hands around his mug, shrugged, then explained the last week. Being confused. Kissing Sam. His disastrous night with Meg. He found that laying it out just made him want to curl up somewhere and never emerge again.

“Wow,” Charlie said when he’d finished. Castiel groaned and hunched over his mug. “Wow,” Charlie said again. “So you just barreled into that? No inkling what buttons you were pushing?”

“Listen,” Castiel started, but Charlie lifted her hands.

“Okay, yeah, sorry. You weren’t trying to hurt her, I know.” Castiel sank back into his chair.

“I’m afraid,” he said, “that I’ve just lost Meg. And that eventually I’m going to lose Sam, too.”

“Why would you lose Sam?”

“Because he’s all but admitted he likes me. And I’m too fucked up to be able to reciprocate. Sure, he’s said he’s fine with anything, but what if he’s lying? What if one day he leaves because I can’t give him enough?”

“Then screw him,” Charlie said. “Screw anyone who can’t accept what you are. Better to lose them than to be stuck in relationships that make you feel like shit about yourself. Although between you and me?” She leaned forward. “You’re not going to lose anyone.”

Castiel lifted his head a little. “You think so?”

“Sure.” Charlie gave him a crooked smile. “You’re a good guy, Cas. And Sam’s awesome, and Meg seems to honestly care about the people who’re important. I think everyone’s going to figure it out in the end.”

Castiel exhaled, long and steady. He lifted his mug.

“To optimism?” he said. Charlie lifted her mug and clunked it against his.

“To optimism.”

***

Charlie and Castiel spent the rest of that Friday and most of Saturday slouched on the couch watching Netflix. It was a little disgusting, but Castiel figured that they could be doing worse.

On Saturday afternoon, Charlie got a call that she took to the kitchen. Castiel picked through the remains of their Chinese takeout while Charlie’s voice echoed against tile. He couldn’t hear distinct words, but the rise and fall of her tone told him enough. Charlie emerged ten minutes later with a tighter face. She thanked Castiel for letting her crash, but said that she needed to go home.

“Is everything okay?” he asked.

She managed a smile. “Peachy.”

Castiel pushed himself from the couch and walked to her, capturing her in a hard hug. She hugged back with her face hidden in his shoulder.

“Call me,” he said. “I’ll listen to you vent all day.” Charlie laughed.

Castiel lingered at his front window five minutes later, watching Charlie’s car disappear down the road. Long after it was gone, he toyed with his phone while the last remnants of daylight slipped across the houses. He finally called Sam and got voicemail. He hung up before the tone sounded.

When he emerged from the bathroom five minutes later, his phone screen flashed with a new text message. He skirted it, went into the kitchen, paused, then did an about face and snatched it up.

_Sorry did you just try to call me?_

Castiel’s thumbs hovered over the phone.

_Yes. Sorry, are you busy?_

_No; I’m just at the library. I can step outside and we can talk._

_That’s fine. I just wanted to know when we can meet up again. Tonight maybe?_

_I have a job tonight :(_

Castiel sank into the couch, staring at his phone.

_Can I talk to you after you’re done?_

Sam’s reply took longer, long enough for Castiel to make three nervous circuits around the house. When he returned to where he’d dumped his phone on the couch, it was vibrating with an incoming call. He didn’t recognize the number, but the area code was local, so he picked it up.

“Hello?”

“Mr. Milton?”

Castiel squinted at the far wall. “Yes?” He could hear phones ringing and people talking in the background.

“My name is Missouri Mosley; I work at Riverview Hospital. We have you down as Anna Milton’s emergency contact.”

Castiel’s stomach dropped.

“Anna was brought in a half hour ago,” Missouri said. “She’s been in a bad car accident. We have her in critical condition right now.”

Castiel could feel his throat working to say something, but the air had vacated his lungs. He felt the floor dropping out beneath him.

“I know you’re frightened right now,” Missouri continued, and Castiel had to dimly wonder how often she made calls like this. “But I’d like you to sit down and take some deep breaths. Make sure you’re in control before you drive over.” Castiel nodded even though she couldn’t see him, and felt his way for the couch.

“What happened, exactly?” he managed.

“I’m afraid I don’t know those details; that’s a matter for the police,” Missouri said. “But will she make it?”

Missouri was silent for a moment. “Mr. Milton,” she said, “it’s not often that one of our own ends up in the E.R., so I can’t usually answer questions like that with any truthfulness. But I’ve known Anna ever since she started working here. She’s a kind girl, and she’s strong and she’s determined.” Another pause. “I’d bet on her fighting through this.”

“Okay,” Castiel breathed. He rested his forehead in his hand. “Okay,” he repeated. “Thank you.” He inhaled too hard. “I’ll be over soon.”

“Be careful,” Missouri told him before she hung up.

Castiel gave himself a moment to stare at the carpet, to gather the scattered pieces of himself and draw them into something cohesive. Then he lurched to a stand and went for his bedroom, dialing Hannah’s number as he did so.

“Hello?” She sounded bright and relaxed when she answered, and he wished that he didn’t have to ruin it.

“It’s Anna,” he said, blunt. “She got in a car crash. She’s in the hospital.”

Silence roared from the other end of the line. Castiel grabbed the first shoes he found and wondered, wildly, if the call had dropped.

“What?” The words just whispered through the line. “What the—is she okay?”

“I don’t know. In critical condition. I’m driving over now.” He threw on his coat and flew from the bedroom.

“What _happened_?” Hannah demanded. She had begun to sound angry.

“No idea, I just got the call.” Castiel cursed under his breath while he jogged back into the hall and realized that his car keys weren’t in his coat pockets. He spotted them on the small table next to the front door—where they were supposed to be. He grabbed his wallet from the couch’s side table, hooked the keys, and clattered down the front steps.

“I’m driving home,” Hannah said.

“You can’t—“

“ _You_ can’t do a damn thing to stop me, so shut up,” Hannah snapped. Castiel released a wild exhale and slid into his car.

“Don’t you dare crash, too,” he ordered.

“Same,” Hannah replied. “Text me when you know more.”

“Okay.” Castiel hesitated. “Should we tell the family—”

“Not yet,” Hannah ordered. Something clattered in the background. “Focus on figuring out how she is.” A second later, she hung up.

Castiel dropped the phone onto the passenger seat and took a moment to bow his head over the steering wheel, his eyes screwed shut and his knuckles white. Then he jammed the key into the ignition.

***

When Castiel entered the hospital, it was like being punched back to five years ago. He kept expecting a dour, wrinkled doctor to appear to tell them he’s very sorry, but there had been nothing they could do for Mr. Milton.

He went to the first nurse he could find—it wasn’t Missouri; he was told her shift had ended five minutes ago. This nurse told him that he would have to wait, and that she’d inform him of any developments as they came. It made all kinds of logical sense that he wasn’t allowed in the operating room, but he vibrated with the need to shove through the double doors and find Anna, somewhere, in one of the rooms.

He found a chair to collapse into then texted Hannah telling her Anna was still in surgery. He didn’t get anything except an _ok._ He kept sliding his thumb over his phone screen and considering the consequences of calling someone else in the family. Uproar. At least six or seven people crowding into the waiting room all asking the same question five times and stating that they knew some of the best doctors in the country, and that Anael Milton deserved better than some two-bit hospital.

Castiel slumped deeper into his chair and gripped his phone with both hands. There had to be one Milton, he thought with a wash of desperation. One other person to keep everything from shaking apart until Hannah—

He blinked, then opened his contacts. Gabe picked up on the third ring.

“H’lo?” Bass thumped so hard in the background that Castiel could feel it in his jaw.

“I’m at Riverview Hospital,” Castiel said in as loud a voice as he could manage. “It’s Anna.”

The bass rammed against the phone’s speaker. Someone laughed in the background.

“What?”

“Car crash. She’s in critical condition.”

A shuffle, a “watch it, asshole!” from Gabe, and then sudden clarity. The bass became a soft ripple in the distance.

“I’m parked a few blocks away,” Gabe said. The bass faded, swallowed up by a thin whistle of wind.

“Are you drunk?” Castiel demanded. “I don’t need two of you—“

“I can drive.” Gabe exhaled hard. “Tell me everything.” Castiel did so, despairing at how it all fit in three sentences.

“Only you, me, and Hannah know so far,” he said. “We should—“

“Yeah, the DL is best until she’s out of the woods,” Gabe cut in. “I know.” A beat of silence into which Castiel wished he could say the right thing that would make the world stop spinning. Instead he told Gabe to drive carefully; Gabe said he knew that, too, and hung up to the sound of an engine starting. Castiel stayed in the same position, his phone sagging by his ear, for nearly a minute afterwards. The linoleum was blurring.

The next half hour passed in a fog. Castiel fetched a Styrofoam cup of tar-like coffee to have something warm in his hands. He watched the landscape of faces erode into new formations every ten minutes. Hannah texted to tell Castiel she was gassing up on Exit 243 somewhere in Indiana. She texted again five minutes later to tell him she’d made it out without being mugged.

Gabe arrived a half hour after the call without a coat, a glow ring still around his neck, and made a beeline for Castiel. Gabe stopped in front of his cousin, looked him over, then reached down and clapped him on the shoulder. His eyes were damp. Castiel gave Gabe his coat and made him sit next to the heater while he went to fetch another cup of coffee.

A nurse emerged from the double doors two hours after Castiel had first arrived, spoke to the nurse at the front desk, then looked to Castiel and Gabe’s corner. Castiel straightened; his veins flooded with something sharp and cold. The nurse’s shoes squeaked as she walked across the waiting room. Gabe half rose from his seat.

“Are you Anna’s brothers?” the nurse asked when she got near.

“Yes,” they said in unison.

The nurse smiled. “She’s going to pull through.” Castiel collapsed inward and didn’t hear the rest.

***

An hour later, Castiel found himself in a different stiff chair, in a different arrangement of fluorescent light and linoleum, but this time with a ghost-white Anna across from him. The doctor, who introduced herself as Dr. Sharma, had said a lot of things about Anna’s car wrapping around a telephone pole, about blood loss, several broken bones, and a long healing process, but she reiterated what the nurse had said, and the only really important thing: nothing vital had been seriously damaged, and Anna would live.

“We’d like to talk to you at some point,” Dr. Sharma said, “about Anna’s blood work.”

Castiel blinked at her then shot a look at Gabe, who looked back helplessly.

“What about it?” he asked.

The doctor folded her arms. “She had high levels of opioids.” Castiel stared, uncomprehending. “Was she taking pain killers, to your knowledge?”

Castiel shook his head, glanced at Gabe again. He looked like he was still processing what the doctor was saying. Dr. Sharma pressed her lips together.

“It’s possible,” she said, “that Anna has been abusing prescription drugs. I’d guess mepederine.”

“Hang on,” Gabe cut in. “Hang on. Are you saying Anna’s been popping pills?”

The doctor cleared her throat. “It looks very possible.”

“There’s no way!” Gabe was grinning like the whole thing was a grand joke. He looked to Castiel for support. “Jesus, that should be me and Balth. But _Anna_?” He laughed. “Nah. I’m sorry, you’ve got it mixed up.”

Neither Castiel nor Dr. Sharma were laughing. Gabe’s expression faltered.

“Can you give us a moment?” Castiel asked. The doctor nodded and left with a quiet click of the door.

“Gabe—“

“The lady’s fucking with us,” Gabe cut in. He half stood. “It’s the big pharma. She’s just trying to squeeze—“

“ _Gabe_.” Gabe collapsed back into his seat. His hands were shaking.

“Not Anna,” he said. His voice sounded like it was cracking at the edges. “Anna’s the one with her life put together. Anna’s the cool little cousin who was never scared of the big kids. Anna.” He stopped, wiped a hand down his face, then stood up suddenly enough to send his chair scraping across the linoleum. He didn’t quite slam the door behind him, but it thudded.

Castiel looked to Anna, pale and swathed in bandages, and he realized that his eyes were completely dry.

***

When Gabe returned, he bore two coffee cups. He handed one to Castiel like a silent offering. Then he grabbed his chair, scooted it up alongside Anna, and settled in with his eyes fixed on her. All this transpired without a word being exchanged.

Hannah arrived an hour and a half later, and Castiel didn’t point out that she must have broken the speed limit by a few orders of magnitude to get here that fast. He had spoken to her over the phone earlier, relayed the news about the blood work. Hannah had been silent, then only said that they’d deal with that, eventually.

Now, Castiel stood in the corner of the room while Hannah stood beside Anna’s bed and gripped her pale hand in two of her own, her eyes scrubbed red. After a few minutes, Hannah set down her sister’s hand like it was made of porcelain, then rounded the gurney to collapse into Castiel. He staggered back a little, only to feel Gabe’s bulk behind him. Hannah smelled of coffee and stale sweat, Gabe of cigarette smoke and faint sugar, and Castiel closed his eyes, letting the familiarity sweep over him.

The next hour inched forward, interrupted only by nurses coming in to check Anna’s vitals. They lingered to say how much Anna meant to the hospital, and that they’d all be fighting for her. Castiel wished he had the energy to show the proper gratitude, but all he could do was nod.

Three hours after rushing into the room, Castiel found himself desperate to get out, away from the beeping of the machine and the sight of Anna. It was too sickeningly familiar. He moved to the door in abrupt movements, throwing something out about finding food. Gabe was slumped in one of the chairs, his head resting on one hand and his gaze penetrating the floor. Hannah had stationed herself beside Anna again, but she glanced up at Castiel with light puzzlement. He left before he could see her judging him.

Castiel wandered down the halls like a piece of flotsam caught in a stream, moving out of the way of people who looked like they knew where they were going, turning around obediently when nurses told him in a firm tone that only patients and staff were allowed past one doorway or another. He kept swirling back to the main hallway that ran like an artery through the hospital. That eventually dumped him into a quiet side hall that contained lines of wooden doors that must have led to offices and break rooms. He sagged in one of the ubiquitous chairs and folded his hands.

Ten seconds later, his phone buzzed against his thigh. Castiel dropped his gaze to the bulge in his pocket then fished it out. He woke up his screen and found a line of texts and missed calls, all from Sam.

 _Let me know if you want to meet still. I understand if you don’t_ , said the bottommost one.

Castiel’s throat grew thicker. He slid his thumb to call Sam’s number. The phone rang three times, then Sam’s voice flooded in like a warm breeze.

“Cas?”

Castiel exhaled so long and hard that he felt limp. He leaned his head back; it thudded against the plaster.

“Cas?”

“I’m here.” Castiel inhaled to refill his lungs. A pause went too long.

“Did something happen?”

Castiel made a small, affirmative sound. “I’m in a hospital,” he said.

“What?” Sam’s voice boomed. “Are you—?”

“Anna,” Castiel said. “She got in a car crash.”

A bout of silence. “God.” He sounded hushed, almost reverent. “Is she okay?”

“They say she’ll make it. This is the hospital where she works; everyone here knows her. They’re going to make sure she makes it.” His voice staggered at the end, and it was only then that he realized how close they’d come to losing her. His innards collapsed.

“What hospital?” Sam was saying.

“Riverview.” Castiel could hear the bustle of the hospital just down the hall, but it felt like a mile away. “The one off of McKinley.”

“I know the place,” Sam said. “Hold tight.”

“What?”

“I’ll be there in a half hour, tops.”

“Sam—“

“Just hold tight,” Sam repeated. He hung up before Castiel could say anything else.

So Castiel held tight. He felt like a lost kid who had just been reminded that if lost, he should stay in one place rather than wander around. He crumpled and uncrumpled an old receipt in his pocket until it became as soft as cloth.

Then, suddenly, Sam appeared like a mirage at the end of the hall. He stopped short when he saw Castiel, and for a moment Castiel saw him perfectly outlined against white walls. He grew larger as he hurried down the hall, eating up tile with each stride. Castiel didn’t know what was going to happen when Sam reached him, but he suspected it would involve something embarrassing for him. He could already feel his arms rising like a child reaching for a parent.

Sam materialized into a clatter of shoes, a familiar scent overlain by city fumes, and then an enveloping weight when he slid into the chair beside Castiel’s and reached over to catch him. Sam’s arms were large like always, and they curved over Castiel while he did his best to disappear inside Sam’s heavy corduroy jacket.

They sat like that for a long while, too long for normalcy. Castiel could only spare a few seconds for those kinds of thoughts; he kept drowning in waves of _I almost lost her; I almost lost her_ and _Sam is here; Sam is here._

It took a child’s shout echoing down the corridor to make Castiel jerk his head up, his eyes fixing on the activity at the end of the hall.

“It’s fine,” Sam said. One of his hands smoothed over the top of Castiel’s head. “Probably some poor kid who broke an arm.”

Castiel didn’t reply. He straightened, tugged himself loose from Sam. He realized that he had hot, heavy eyes and damp skin. Sam slid his hands down Castiel’s shoulders, his arms, then cradled Castiel’s hands in his own. He ran his thumbs along Castiel’s palms.

“I’m listening,” he said. “If you want to say anything.”

Castiel’s lips parted. They closed. He made a loud, rude sniff.

“I said I’d get Hannah and Gabe food,” he said. Sam nodded like this was exactly what he’d expected to hear.

“They have some restaurants and sandwich places across the street,” he said. “Want to see if we can find something to go?”

Castiel nodded. Sam stood, and Castiel followed with a creak of his knees. They walked toward the main entrance at a slow pace because Castiel’s legs didn’t seem to work correctly. They had lead weights attached to them.

Sam didn’t try to make him speak while they went down the sidewalk and crossed at the nearest stoplight. He didn’t comment when Castiel kept his shoulder leaned into Sam’s upper arm. He paid when they bought four subs at a small deli, and Castiel didn’t even realize it until they were halfway across the main lobby.

“You paid,” he told Sam dumbly. Sam shrugged.

“You can pay me back sometime,” he said. Castiel fell silent again.

They reached the double doors that led to Anna’s ward, and Castiel looked up, shame-faced. “I think only family…”

“Oh, yeah, of course.” Sam dug into the big paper bag for his sandwich and handed the rest to Castiel. “I’ll eat out here; I’ll be here if you want to come back out.” He paused. “Or if you rather I go home—“

“No,” Castiel cut in. “I’ll be out soon.” Sam nodded.

When Castiel entered Anna’s room again, he found Gabe and Hannah sitting on either side of Anna, talking in low voices. They cut off when the paper bag rustled. Castiel lifted it briefly. “Food,” he said.

They all ate in silence; Castiel kept spotting Hannah giving him subtle glances. He had no idea what she was trying to do. When the sandwiches had been reduced to crumbs (Gabe) or nibbled at (Castiel), Hannah spoke.

“A specialist came in while you were gone,” she said. Gabe’s expression grew hooded, and he looked down at his clasped hands. “She wanted to know about what we’d noticed as far as Anna’s mental state.”

“What did you say?” Castiel asked.

“That she was stressed because of work and Michael,” Hannah said. She sat with a straight back and her hands folded in her lap, like a schoolgirl reciting times tables. “That we knew she was having a hard time, but we didn’t think…we didn’t realize—“

“Didn’t realize she was a druggie,” Gabe cut in. Hannah glared at him; Gabe looked rebelliously back. “What?” he demanded. “That’s the rub, isn’t it? We had no fucking idea.”

“I knew she was struggling some,” Hannah shot back, her voice a little too high. “She’s a proud person. She wouldn’t have wanted to admit it, even to us. You really think it’s impossible she hid it well?”

“Sure,” Gabe said, mulish. “Or we’re so used to Anna mothering us that we forgot to make sure she’s okay, too. ‘Cause this effing family is all effed to hell.” Hannah looked close to tears now.

“What did the specialist say?” Castiel asked.

“Besides the physical care, they’re going to maker her see a psychologist, possibly a therapist,” Hannah said, turning to him with her hands in fists. “And she’ll need meds, though that might be tricky to figure out, if she’s been overdosing, if she’s addicted.”

Castiel’s eyes dropped to his knees. “She can’t pay for it all herself,” he said.

“Not if her complaints about her pay and benefits are true,” Hannah said.

“Tell him the other thing,” Gabe grunted. Hannah scowled; Castiel looked between them enquiringly. Gabe slouched further in his seat. “No one’s said it, but where do you think Anna’s getting these drugs. Working as an EMT and all?”

Castiel’s heart thudded. “You think she’s been stealing them from the hospital?” he asked.

“I’ll bet you anything the doc’s thought the same thing,” Gabe nodded. “They’re going to check.” He paused, ruminating. “I bet she crashed ‘cause she was high. She’s lucky she didn’t hit anyone. Lucky she wasn’t driving an effing ambulance.”

“ _Gabe_ ,” Hannah hissed.

“And when they realize she’s been stealing, they’re not gonna just let that go. I don’t care how much the nurses like her.”

“If they care about her, they’ll work to help her,” Hannah said.

“Yeah, they’ll help her recover. But will there be a job once she’s on her feet?” Gabe crossed his arms. “Which leads back to the question: where the hell’s the money coming from?”

They all three looked at one another: the college student, the cashier/musician, the museum employee. Castiel had a dim idea of medical costs, but he couldn’t imagine them scraping it together readily, even in combination with Anna’s savings.

“We’re going to have to get the family involved,” Castiel said. Gabe snorted.

“It might not be so bad,” Hannah said, and Castiel almost snorted as well. They didn’t have a chance of petitioning any member of the Milton clan for help without news reaching Michael, and when that happened, the whole ordeal would become sodden with family politics and outrage and disappointment. Everything that Anna didn’t need right now.

“Isn’t there _any_ alternative?” Castiel asked, feeling foolish the moment the words left him.

“You see one?” Gabe asked. “Soon as they hear about this, of course everyone’s going to know that Anna’ll need help. So, yeah, the alternative is keeping all this hidden from everyone. Good luck with that.”

They fell silent again. Hannah looked over to her sister, who slept unheeding of the conversation. “Shouldn’t we wait until she’s awake?” she said. “It’ll have to be her decision, ultimately.”

Castiel glanced at Gabe, who nodded heavily.

Castiel lingered in the room for another forty-five minutes before Hannah pointed out that there was little point in them all being stiff and sleep-deprived.

“I’ll stay with her for now,” Hannah said. “You guys go home and sleep for a little.”

“You think I’m going to sleep?” Gabe asked while Castiel pointed out, “You just drove across five states.”

“I’m fine,” Hannah waved him off. She looked to Gabe. “You’ll be surprised once your head hits a pillow.” Gabe screwed up his face, but he seemed to consider it.

“I can go by Anna’s place and get you some clothes,” Castiel said.

“Yeah, that’d be nice.” Hannah gave him a tired smile. “I’ll fit in most of Anna’s things. Toothbrush and deodorant and stuff would be nice.” She paused. “Maybe a computer. I’m going to have to email my professors.”

In the end, Gabe and Castiel both submitted to shuffling out. Castiel leaned down to kiss Hannah’s cheek before he left. She reached up to hook her arms around his neck and leaned her forehead against his shoulder for a single, breathy exhale.

“She’s tough,” Gabe said when they started down the hall. “She’ll be okay.” Castiel didn’t know which sister he was talking about.

Castiel spotted Sam sitting at the far end of the waiting room, engrossed in a magazine. He told Gabe that he was going to the bathroom first, and that he’d see him tomorrow. Gabe, who managed to look exhausted and angry all at once, gave a vague wave and disappeared toward the front lobby.

Sam glanced up when Castiel approached, and it took a conscious effort not to fall into him again. Instead Castiel thrust his hands into his pockets and smeared his mouth into a smile. Sam set the magazine on the side table and stood, grabbing his jacket where it had been draped over the chair beside him.

“I can drive you home,” Sam said, swinging the jacket on. Castiel exhaled through barely parted lips.

“Can you drive?” He winced as soon as he said it. “Sorry, that’s presumptive—“

“I can drive,” Sam laughed. “I learned on an ancient stick shift, even. I can handle your fancy automatic.” It was Castiel’s cue to say something light and witty, but his brain felt picked empty. Sam placed a light hand on his elbow like it didn’t matter.

They remained silent the entire hour-long stretch of walking to the parking garage, navigating the hospital campus’ snarls of traffic, and winding all the way to Castiel’s neighborhood. He dozed in the car to the sound of the heater blasting and the creak of the steering wheel.

Castiel’s house lights were blazing yellow when they pulled up, and for five heart-stopping seconds, he wondered if someone had broken in. But no, he remembered. He’d rushed out too fast. Because his sister had been in the emergency room. The little energy left in him dribbled away.

“Hey,” Sam said, and it was only then that Castiel realized he’d been sitting motionless for the better part of a minute. He flushed and fumbled to unbuckle.

He’d also forgotten that he’d left the house in such a state. When he opened the front door, Sam a half foot behind, he jerked his head back at the scent of Chinese food left out for several hours. He turned to Sam.

“I left in a rush,” he said, apologetic. Sam shrugged and gently pushed past him.

“You think I haven’t seen worse?” he said. He glanced at the spread of congealing food, then turned and disappeared into the kitchen. Castiel hovered at the entryway, the door wide open and letting all the heated air escape. Sam emerged with a trash bag and started sweeping the old food from the coffee table. He bagged everything up, then eyed Castiel.

“Take a shower,” he said.

“What?”

“Showers help.”

Castiel got a brief, bare glimpse of Sam shivering in this same house with no coat or wallet or phone. He nodded.

The shower took nearly a half hour, and when Castiel emerged, some semblance of his recognizable life had settled into place. He pulled on sweats and a t-shirt and wandered into the living room so he could fall into the couch. A shuffle from the kitchen; a moment later, Sam appeared beside him. Something hot and savory billowed into Castiel’s face.

“I made mac and cheese,” Sam said. “I found a box in the cabinet.” Castiel’s fingers bumped against a hard, warm thing. He accepted it and looked down into a bowl of pasta covered in cheese yellow as plastic. The smell rocketed Castiel back to his childhood kitchen on nights when dad was working late and Anna was in charge of dinner.

The tears built up thick and angry, and before he could press them back, they began forging long trails down his face. He kept his head ducked, as if that would hide anything, and gripped the warmth of the blue ceramic bowl.

“Cas.” A large hand closed over his wrist.

“Stop being so nice to me.” The hand loosened its grip, but it didn’t leave.

“Why?”

“Anna’s the one unconscious,” he said. His words kept getting tripped up against the tears and how his throat swelled shut. “She needs the support; she needs—“

“Yeah,” Sam hushed. He extricated the bowl from Castiel’s hand and placed it on the coffee table. “And when you’re back in that hospital, you’re going to be a rock for her. But you’re allowed to have your own breakdown. Think of me as Anna’s secondary support. I’m helping you help her.”

Castiel laughed out of sheer surprised nerves, then ground his eyes shut as he said, “They found opioids in her system. She’s been taking pills without a prescription. Gabe thinks she stole them from work.”

Silence.

“Opioids?” Sam repeated. Castiel nodded into his hands. Sam hissed.

“Gabe’s right,” Castiel said, muffled. “We should have realized something wasn’t right. We didn’t have any fucking _clue_.”

“Is she addicted?” Sam asked. Castiel shuddered.

“I don’t know,” he said. “But that’s what happens, isn’t it?”

Sam was silent for a long while, then his hands snaked around Castiel’s wrists again. “Cas,” he said. Something in his tone of voice coaxed Castiel into lifting his head. Sam’s face was closer than he’d expected and his expression more unreadable. Frightened, maybe. Mostly sympathetic. “Can I tell you something?” Castiel blinked, nodded. “I’m a recovering drug addict.”

“What?”

“Yeah. Heroin, mostly. It nearly killed me.” Sam ducked his head. “And let me tell you, addicts are masters of justifying and hiding what they’re doing. I used the drugs as an escape after Jess died. I told myself that getting away from reality for a while was the only thing keeping me from offing myself. I told myself that if Dean found out, he wouldn’t understand and take it away and abandon me, then all I’d have was the pain. I got really good at lying. Lying and stealing peoples’ money.” He squeezed Castiel’s wrists. “So I understand why Anna hid that from you. She’s scared, ashamed. She might be like me, might think that if you guys find out, you’d disown her.”

“How could she think that…”

“Yeah, I know. But fear warps your thinking.” Sam smiled a little. “When you see her again, just make sure she knows you love her and have her back. That’s the best thing you can offer.”

Castiel sniffed. “I’m afraid I won’t be enough,” he confessed. “I haven’t been a good enough brother to her recently, and I’m afraid—“

“Yeah, and none of us are good enough at being brothers and sisters and friends,” Sam cut in. “So you try your best. It’s hokey as hell, but it’s true.”

Castiel tugged a hand loose to wipe at his eyes. Sam dropped the other wrist and retreated his hands into his lap. Castiel didn’t know how to ask him to bring them back. “Are you okay now?” he asked instead.

“Clean for two years.” Sam ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “Dean sank most of his savings into getting me into a good rehab clinic. Bobby and Ellen lent us money we still have zero chance of repaying. I owe all of them my life.” He shrugged. “That’s why I can’t accept any more money from them. They’ve given too much already.”

Castiel gazed at Sam, and a warm, bright thing inside him flared in ways he hadn’t realized were possible. Sam peered at him from beneath a curtain of hair.

“What are you thinking?” he asked. His voice had become cautious.

“How beautiful you are,” Castiel said. Sam froze. The house plunged into cottony silence.

Abruptly, Sam coughed out a guffaw. “I’m a drug addict and a whore,” he said. He threw the words out like a whip.

“Former drug addict, you said.” Castiel shifted, slowly becoming aware that he’d been too honest. But he was too drained to properly care. “I don’t see how any of that is mutually exclusive.” A strange expression crawled across Sam’s face. He leaned back and surveyed Castiel, who dropped his eyes to the cooling bowl of mac and cheese on the coffee table. He watched it blur; he squeezed his eyes shut.

“I can go,” Sam said. “So you can get some sleep.” Castiel shook his head, eyes still shut.

“Can you stay?”

Silence. Colors exploded across the back of Castiel’s eyelids.

“Yes.” The word petered out halfway through. Castiel opened his eyes; his vision of Sam was blurred, too. He reached out, and his hand met the warm, worn fabric of Sam’s flannel shirt. He gathered the fabric into his fist, stood, and tugged. Sam followed easy as water flowing.


	9. The Brownie Metaphor Returns and is Accompanied by Shapes and Pits of Vipers

Castiel woke up bathed in sunlight. He’d forgotten to close the shades, and the morning sun poured through the window. A foreign arm draped in front of him; he could feel the rest lying across his shoulder and a hot body following the line of his own. For a moment, his brain spasmed in indecision and fear and insecurity of whether this was right.

 _No_ , he told himself, his mind still thick with sleep. _No more of that. This is good._

He yawned. He turned over, and he tucked himself into the spaces of Sam’s body. He found that he fit perfectly, and he went back to sleep.

***

The sun came in at a shallower angle when Castiel woke up a second time. He squinted, his eyelashes making fractals from the light. Sam’s smell and heat came from somewhere behind him.

When Castiel flipped onto his back, his shoulder bumped against Sam’s thigh. He was sitting against the headboard, Castiel’s battered copy of _Guns, Germs and Steel_ open in his lap. His eyes weren’t on the book.

“Hi,” Castiel said.

“Hey.”

Sam placed a piece of junk mail in the book to hold his place and closed the book with a soft _fwap_. He leaned over to set it on the bedside table then settled back into place. He still had his flannel shirt on, but the bare skin of his legs brushed against Castiel’s arm. Sam watched him like he was waiting for a verdict. Castiel yawned and wiped one hand down his face.

“What time is it?”

“A little after ten,” Sam said without glancing at the clock. Castiel frowned.

“Are you okay?”

Sam brought up his legs to wrap his arms around his shins. “You were in a weird emotional place last night and I didn’t want to—“

“Sam. We just slept together. _Slept_ slept together.” The bravado in his voice was like a foreign thing. He liked it.

Sam’s mouth quirked at one edge. “Is that, uh, kosher for you?”

Castiel shifted his head to look up at the ceiling, tugging the blanket up to his chin.

“Yes.”

“Oh,” Sam said. He nodded. “Good.”

“You know how I was texting you yesterday about wanting to talk?” Castiel said.

“Yeah.”

“I wanted to explain something.” The brief burst of bravado was already fizzling out, damn it. He’d have to get through this with sheer willpower. He pushed himself into a sit so he could look Sam in the eye. He clasped his hands in his lap.

“Okay; this is what I’d been planning to say. You’re one of my favorite people. And I’m sorry for asking you to kiss me, but I was frustrated with myself, because I understand that when one person likes another person this much, they should want to kiss them and do…those things.” He waved a hand. “But I don’t. And I was going to ask Meg to have sex with me, and she said no. And I…” He paused, already losing his train of thought. “I guess what I’m trying to say is I’m never going to want those things, even with the people I love most. But that doesn’t affect the amount that I love you or Meg or Anna or Hannah or Gabe, just the shape of it. Other people seem to have one shape for family, one for friends, one for partners. But I love you all in the same shape.” He faltered, feeling that he’d veered off known territory and was now hacking through the brush, hoping he’d find his point. He looked up at Sam and started at the expression there. It looked too vulnerable, and not at all like Castiel was laying out what a freak he was.

“Anyway,” Castiel rushed forward, hoping he’d just find the pit of proverbial vipers in this jungle of a monologue. “I planned on explaining that more coherently, and then you’d maybe understand why I was kissing you. Because if I were romantic, I’d ask you to be my boyfriend. But I’m not, and I’m sorry for that, but I’ve realized I can’t change it.” He paused. “That’s all.”

Sam leaned back. He wiped at the corner of his eye. When he looked at Castiel properly, he had oddly bright eyes.

“Thanks,” he said. “Can I admit I’ve been kind of…um, concerned the last few days?”

“I figured that. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Sam snaked out a hand and grasped Castiel’s. The light dappled over the tangle of their fingers. Castiel had that small sun unfolding inside him again when Sam squeezed his hand and then suggested they make breakfast before heading to the hospital.

***

Sam accompanied Castiel on the drive to Anna’s apartment to pick up clothes, to the grocery store for food and flowers, and finally to the drug store for toiletries. They swung by Sam’s place so he could change and grab his laptop and a few textbooks. Castiel kept glancing over to Sam, marveling at his presence and the way he radiated calm while Castiel’s heart kept jackrabbiting in his chest. Sam glanced over as if he felt Castiel’s eyes, and he smiled.

“It’s okay,” he said, placing his hand on Castiel’s knee. He nodded and looked to the road again.

When they arrived at the hospital, Sam took up his place in the corner of the waiting room, popping open his laptop, and swearing to Castiel that he’d be fine. “I’ve needed a good reason to buckle down and get this paper done,” he promised. Castiel nodded, paused, then leaned down and pressed a kiss to Sam’s cheek. Sam brought a hand to the spot, peering up with a quizzical expression.

“I’m not sure about proper kisses,” Castiel said, “but I like those, if you do.” Sam grinned and stood briefly to press his lips to Castiel’s forehead, his hands gripping his shoulders.

The spot burned like a ward against bad things as Castiel made his way down the hall, a bulging backpack in one hand and an armful of flowers in the other. He tried to remember what Sam had told him: be a rock.

He heard voices just before he opened the door, and his heart leapt. When he stepped into the room, his eyes cut first to Anna. She lay as still as before. He took a moment longer to find Hannah. She had sequestered herself in the corner near Anna’s bed, wrapped in a hospital blanket, staring up at the TV that had produced the voices. She dropped her head when Castiel entered. The bags under her eyes had become more pronounced, and her dark hair scraggled over the blanket.

“Hi,” Castiel said, crossing the room and bending down to gather her up. Hannah sagged into him like she had as a little girl.

“Have you slept?” he murmured into her hair. She shook her head, her forehead rocking against his sternum. “Eaten?”

“Some crackers.”

Castiel sighed and kissed the top of her head. “Here.” He set the flowers on the bedside table and hoisted up the backpack. He pulled out an assortment of clothing and set them in Hannah’s lap. “I don’t know if they have showers here, but I got some of those face wipes from Walgreens. Oh, and waterless shampoo? The kind you use when you’re camping. Is there a bathroom nearby?”

“Down the hall.” Hannah was looking into her lap. She picked up a worn sweater that Anna had procured from her brief stint in medical school. She brought it to her face and inhaled.

“Thanks,” she said after a moment, accepting the backpack her brother offered.

“I got everything,” he said. “Razors, deodorant, pads.”

“A true hero,” Hannah said, and even managed a smile. It faded as she looked to Anna. “If she wakes up—“

“I’ll get you.”

“She sort of blinked four hours ago,” Hannah said. “But I don’t think she actually gained consciousness. But you never know, right? People talk all the time about being unconscious and still hearing everything.” Hannah swallowed. “I’ve been telling her that it’ll be okay.”

Castiel nodded.

When Hannah had left the room, Castiel took the chair she had vacated, setting the hospital blanket in a second chair. He looked over Anna; she didn’t seem to have changed.

“I have a friend,” Castiel told her. “The one you kept bothering me about meeting. He says he used to be addicted to heroin, and that you might be scared we’ll hate you for the drugs. I just want to make sure you know that could never happen. I don’t think Hannah or I would be capable of it.” He paused, swallowing. “We can’t lose anyone else, Anna,” he said. “It’s always been the three of us. You don’t get to leave us alone.”

He fell silent, leaning back in his chair, and waited.

***

Anna woke up at 3:56 p.m., while Castiel was reading a text from Sam. He heard a muffled sound from Hannah, and when he looked up, Anna’s eyes were glassy and red-rimmed, but open. They struggled to focus on Hannah, who was leaning over her sister and clutching her good hand. Castiel scrambled to a stand, bumping up against Hannah. They both watched, breathless, while Anna processed their faces.

“I want water,” she croaked, then shut her eyes.

By the time a nurse responded to Hannah jamming the call button, Anna had fallen unconscious again. The nurse checked her vitals, said she was fine, and suggested they be patient. Castiel barely resisted laughing at that one.

Gabe arrived an hour later with flowers and a bright pink teddy bear. He arranged them on Anna’s side table. The next two hours passed in a tight silence. Hannah and Gabe watched reruns of _Family Feud_ while Castiel texted Sam.

When Anna woke up again, she announced it with a loud, “Fuck, everything hurts.” Gabe jumped up like someone had burned him; Hannah gave a soft shriek and lunged forward to wrap her arms around her sister.

The next half hour passed in a small frenzy of several nurses coming in to check her vitals and asking Anna questions about the current president (“Obama. Of course I know who it is; I fuckin’ voted for that guy.”) and where she worked (“Missouri, you see me every shift. Where do you think I work?”).

“You know there are less fresh ways to let us know you don’t have memory loss,” Missouri retorted, then winked at Castiel and Hannah. Castiel grinned back.

The consensus, in the end, was that Anna was in stable condition, though Missouri warned her that the doctor would have to give the final verdict on that.

“Who do I have?” Anna asked while Missouri slipped a needle into the crook of her arm. “Is it Crowley? I hope not; I hate that guy.”

“Kali.”

“Mm,” Anna hummed, and didn’t give any indication of whether this was a bad thing.

Hannah, Gabe, and Castiel all hovered while Missouri took Anna’s blood. She had just slipped the needle from Anna’s arm when the door opened and Dr. Sharma walked in. Castiel saw Anna’s mouth set.

“Anna,” Dr. Sharma said.

“Hey, Kali.” Anna paused. “Thanks for not letting me croak.” Dr. Sharma’s mouth twitched.

“I wonder if I can speak to Anna alone,” Dr. Sharma said to the room at large. No one moved for a moment, then Castiel gathered his coat and made for the door. Gabe and Hannah followed. Missouri took up the rear, bearing vials of Anna’s blood. She gave them an oddly sympathetic look when she turned to disappear down the hall.

They loitered in the hall outside the door. Gabe had foregone discretion and pressed his ear against the door, but he reported only hearing muffled voices. The conversation wasn’t long; no more than ten minutes. Dr. Sharma emerged, gave them all a polite nod, and stalked down the hall in the same direction Missouri had gone. Hannah led the way back into the room, her expression determined.

They found Anna sitting upright in her bed, picking at a loose thread on her cotton sheets. She glanced up and cracked a small smile.

“Thanks for the Pepto-Bismol bear,” she said. No one spoke immediately.

“What did you and the doctor talk about?” Hannah asked.

Castiel could see Anna hesitating, and for a moment he wondered if she was going to lie. Then a shadow crossed her expression and she sank into her pillows.

“Did Kali tell you?” she asked. An agonizing pause.

“That you’re taking pills?” Gabe said. His voice was flat. Anna rolled in her lips but didn’t drop her gaze from them.

“Okay.” She straightened her shoulders as much as she could with her shoulder sling. “Okay. Yeah. I’ve been taking opiates.”

“ _Jesus,_ Anna.” Gabe collapsed into his chair. “Jesus. Why the fuck?”

“’Cause I was miserable,” Anna said, blunt. “My life’s falling apart at the seams. It’s nice to get away from it for a little.”

“Are you addicted?” Castiel asked.

“Kali thinks so. But it’s not like she’s a psychologist.”

“Did you steal from the hospital?” Hannah asked. Anna looked taken aback by this for a moment.

“Did Kali—“

“No,” Gabe cut in. “We guessed that part.”

Anna’s jaw clenched. “I don’t have to answer that,” she said.

“Ok, great.” Gabe braced his hands on his knees. “Just fucking _great_ , Anna. You really think no one’s gonna follow through on investigating that?” Anna glowered at him. “You ever worked while high?” Gabe asked.

“Fuck off.”

“Okay, calm down,” Castiel cut in. He looked between Gabe and Anna. “We don’t have to talk about this now.”

“Sure we do,” Gabe said.

“No,” Anna bit out. “I never drove the ambulance while high. I have some respect for what I’m doing.” Anna looked somewhere between crying and throwing a punch. Her voice shook. “Listen, I don’t need a lecture here. You think I didn’t know I was screwing up?”

“I think you knew perfectly well and still didn’t bother to tell us,” Gabe said. His voice was rising in pitch. “I think we deserve to know when you’re this fucked up, Anna.”

“Newsflash, asshole. You don’t. I get to keep some of my life to myself.” Anna blinked hard and jammed the heel of her hand into her eyes. “Everyone get out.”

“Anna—“

“Get out.”

Gabe huffed and stood abruptly enough to make his chair clatter. Hannah stood rooted where she was until Gabe bumped her shoulder and made her turn uncertainly. Anna glared at her, and Hannah backed up toward the door. Castiel, for his part, moved forward. Anna focused her glare on him, and he felt like he’d just broken her favorite CD again.

He reached out and placed a hand on her knee.

“There’s nothing you could ever do that would make us abandon you,” he said. “Okay?” He paused. “Me and Hannah will be back later today.”

Anna’s lips pressed together. Castiel removed his hand, straightened, and left the room.

Gabe was already gone by the time Castiel emerged into the waiting room, and Hannah stood in the middle of the hall with the backpack hanging from one shoulder and a stricken expression on her face. Castiel went to her and gently nudged her out of the flow of traffic.

“Come on,” he said, leading her to where Sam was watching them. “I’m taking you home.”

Hannah nodded dumbly and tightened her grip on the backpack strap.

“Hey,” Sam breathed when Castiel and Hannah approached him. “How are things?” Hannah’s eyes narrowed in confusion.

“She’s awake,” Castiel said. He kept one hand on Hannah’s arm. “But she’s angry. We’re leaving her alone for a little while.” He pressed on Hannah’s arm. “Hannah, this is my friend, Sam. Sam, my little sister, Hannah.”

“Hi.” Sam stood and held out a hand, a crooked smile in place. Hannah accepted it, though her hand almost disappeared into his. Something in her expression cleared.

“Sam with the Thanksgiving in South Dakota?” she said. Sam nodded. Hannah tilted her head. “It’s really nice to meet you, then, Sam. I’ve heard a lot.”

“Same.”

They all drove to Castiel’s house in relative silence, broken only by Hannah twisting around in her seat to ask Sam mundane questions about his school, his family.

As soon as they entered the house, Hannah announced that she was going to shower and sleep, and strode for the guest bedroom. Castiel hovered in the middle of the living room, watching her closed door, until Sam touched his elbow. Castiel exhaled hard and collapsed onto his couch. Sam followed, his arm coming around Castiel’s shoulders. Castiel sank unashamedly into him, like they’d been doing this for years.

“I hate this,” Castiel said in a low voice. Sam brushed his lips against Castiel’s temple. The only sound came from subtle creaks in Hannah’s room.

“You know,” Castiel said, “I can’t remember the last time I instigated contact with Anna.”

“What d’you mean?”

“Yeah, when I last called her up. Invited her to go to lunch somewhere or have a drink. Anything. She’s been the one to do that for…a year and a half, at least.”

“Did something happen?”

Castiel laughed and leaned into Sam. “Yeah. I came out as asexual.”

Sam made a low hum, then pulled away enough to see Castiel. “What was that like?” he asked.

“Well. Weirder than if I’d come out as gay.” Castiel folded his hands. “See, Charlie introduced me to the idea about two years ago. We’d been talking one night after happy hour and I got into a rant about how I didn’t understand what everyone was talking about when they couldn’t shut up about how sexy someone was. And I remember she leaned forward and she had this huge smile, and she said, ‘Cas, I think you’re asexual.’” Castiel shrugged. “I looked it up. I decided I was. It was…amazing, actually. I had a word for it.” Castiel shrugged. “So I decided to tell people. Because it seemed significant. Hannah accepted it. She was the only family member who really did. I’ll always be grateful to her for that. Gabe and Balthazar told me I was nuts. Anna, she sort of nodded and smiled but I could tell she didn’t get it. And when I was done, she said that she was, uh, glad that I was being open-minded about my identity. And then she told me to be careful of…what was it…hiding behind labels.” Castiel laughed. “I didn’t realize she flat-out didn’t believe me until she started making all these comments about ‘when you meet the right person’ and ‘everyone develops at different rates.’ I was...I think it was worse than Gabe or Balthazar. It was…”

“Shitty?” Sam supplied.

Castiel choked out a laugh. “Yeah,” he said. “Shitty.” He wiped a hand down his face. “And I was so mad at her. I don’t think I even realized how angry I was; I just knew that I didn’t feel like inviting her over for dinner as often. That I didn’t feel like hearing about her problems anymore. And now—“ He grimaced and swiped his hand across his eyes.

Sam was silent for a long while, and when he spoke, his words came slowly. “I’ve been let down by family,” he said. “And I’ve let family down. It’s…you can’t avoid that it’s a two-way street. That’s how it is with any relationship. People fail and the best thing you can do is…is try to forgive them. And then hope they can forgive you.” He shifted his eyes to Castiel; the light caught in the hazel of them. “I dunno. Everyone’s doing their best. That’s all anyone _can_ do.”

Castiel huffed and buried his face into the side of Sam’s shoulder. His voice came out muffled when he said, “You’re very introspective.”

“I try.”

***

Evening gathered force outside. Castiel had to spend twenty minutes convincing Sam to let him drop him off at his own apartment so he could go to classes the next day.

“You’re graduating in a few months,” Castiel said. “Don’t screw it up now just because of my family drama.”

Sam resisted valiantly, but in the end conceded that he shouldn’t miss two days of class in a row. Castiel left him to gather his things while he went to the guest room and spent nearly half a minute with his ear pressed against the door. He heard a sneeze and a groggy, “You can come in, you know.”

Castiel eased open the door and found Hannah buried under the comforter plus a few blankets she must have scrounged from the closet. Castiel perched on the edge of the bed and tugged at the blankets. Hannah’s face emerged looking flushed.

“Did you actually sleep?” Castiel asked.

“Um. No. Give me a few minutes to get dressed.”

“You should stay in bed.”

“Castiel, if you keep me from seeing my sister, I’m kicking your ass.”

“Noted.” Castiel patted her knee through the layers of blankets. “I’ll make you some coffee.”

A half hour later, Castiel was easing the car to a stop while, in the front passenger seat, Sam gathered his backpack and jacket.

“Thanks,” Castiel said in a low voice. He glanced back to Hannah, who was sprawled in the back seat and had her headphones in. “You’ve been…” He tried to find the right word.

“You’d do the same for me.” Sam leaned over and kissed Castiel on the cheek. Castiel smiled a little helplessly while Sam clacked the door open. He let the car idle until Sam had disappeared through his front door. Hannah shuffled in the back seat, and Castiel glanced back to find her watching him.

“I’m still—“

“I know,” she interrupted. She hauled herself into the front seat, dragging a fleece blanket behind her. “He’s a good person. I’m happy you found him.” They watched one another, bathed in the orange glow of the streetlamp, before Castiel shifted the car into drive and eased the car back onto the road.

The drive to Riverview had become routine at this point; Castiel was working on autopilot. Beside him, Hannah made a disgusted sound in the back of her throat.

“Gabe’s not texting back,” she said. “Is he planning on holding a grudge?”

“That’s not his style,” Castiel said, frowning at the road. Hannah sighed and dropped her phone into her lap. Castiel glanced at her; her face was lit up and then snuffed out by passing headlights in a steady rhythm.

“We dumped too much on Anna at once,” Hannah said. Castiel hummed. “We shouldn’t bring it up again until she’s ready. Until she’s out of the woods.” She turned to Castiel. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” he said after a moment. “Okay.”

The hospital had hit a lull when Castiel and Hannah arrived. The waiting room chairs were sparsely populated, and they didn’t have to duck out of anyone’s way as they crossed the main lobby. Anna’s ward was practically empty.

She was asleep when Castiel and Hannah opened the door. They stood together, shoulders bumping, watching her chest rise and fall. Then they moved into the room, took their chairs as before, and settled into the familiar task of waiting.

***

Life took on a new pattern for the next week. It was mostly spent in the hospital, among a strong smell of antiseptic and the glare of fluorescent on tile. Castiel and Hannah began taking turns driving to his house to sleep for a few hours before returning with supplies. Anna drifted through it; some days she was animated enough for Castiel to pretend she had never been in a crash. On those days, he and Hannah took pains not to mention anything about opiates. Other days Anna slept so much it was like that first terrifying night again.

Sam stopped by when he had the time, and often when he didn’t have the time. Castiel scolded him for this out of obligation, but he was grateful for it. Sometimes, when Hannah agreed to hold down the fort, they wandered around the hospital campus and Sam told him the latest stories from work, about the man who’d had the Colin Firth version of _Pride and Prejudice_ playing in the background the whole time and the group of women who’d hired him for a bachelorette party and given him a big gift bag full of flavored condoms and penis-shaped candy.

Castiel had already called Linda to explain his family emergency, and she’d given him clearance to take work off for the next month if he needed it. A week later, he got a text from Charlie demanding that he tell her he was okay, because he’d been gone for forever and Linda was being tightlipped, and if he died without her being able to say goodbye, she was going to kick his ass.

“I’m fine,” he said when he called, a few seconds after reading the text. “It’s my sister; I’m fine.”

“Jesus!” Charlie said. “Linda kept saying, ‘family emergency’ and I couldn’t figure out if that was some euphemism for ‘he’s got a horrible life-threatening disease’ or something.” A pause. “Which sister?”

“Anna; the one you met at my birthday.” He hesitated. “She got in a bad car crash. But she’s recovering; she’s going to start seeing a physical therapist tomorrow.”

“Jesus,” Charlie said again, this time with much more reverence. “I’m so sorry, Cas.” A shuffle. “Can Dorothy and I come in and bring her, dunno, cupcakes or something? Moral support in general?”

“Um.” Castiel glanced to the other side of the room, where his sisters were watching reruns of _Friends_. “It’s still sort of a…delicate…”

“Yeah, I get it.” Charlie exhaled hard. “Listen, if you need someone to talk to about this, I, um, my parents were in a really bad crash when I was just a kid. My dad died instantly but my mom lingered for years in a coma before she passed a few years ago. So. You know.”

Castiel’s eyes widened. “I’m so sorry,” he said.

“Hey, no, I’ve been to the therapists and all that. I’m just saying, I know what it’s like.”

“Okay.” Castiel rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Thank you. When she’s a little better, I’ll let you know so you can come in with the cupcakes.” He hesitated. “So, are you and Dorothy better?”

“Ah.” Charlie laughed. “Yeah, we are. It took a few flung pillows to get there, but yeah. I guess it gives me hope, you know? We tackled this big, ugly thing in our relationship and we actually came out on the other side. It makes me think we might be in this for the long haul.”

Castiel realized he was grinning.

He and Charlie chatted for another few minutes before Charlie’s lunch break was over. She made him swear to keep her updated, and when he hung up, his shoulders felt a few pounds lighter. He looked to Anna and Hannah again, who had gotten bored of _Friends_ and were skimming channels. He imagined a younger, more damaged Charlie who had lost both her parents. He’d never have guessed it on his own. It made him wonder how many tragedies the people around him carried, how many he had no idea existed.

***

All through the physical therapy sessions and the gradual weaning off of medical support, Gabe never appeared. Hannah sent him regular updates out of spite; Anna told her she was wasting her time.

A month after the crash, Dr. Sharma announced Anna was in stable enough condition to go home, though the real work of recovery was still ahead. After she’d left, the three of them spent hours hashing out how it would work. Anna and Castiel both insisted Hannah needed to get back to school, and she eventually gave in. That left Castiel as the only person to help Anna through her recovery, and they eventually agreed Anna would need to stay in Castiel’s house for the time being.

“As long as I don’t have to do your laundry,” Anna said. “I’m done with that part of my life.”

Three days after they brought Anna home and one day before Hannah was planning on returning to school, Castiel was preparing dinner when the front door opened. For a split second he thought it might be Sam, but then he heard a familiar mix of voices.

“Hell,” he muttered, dropping his knife and coming into the living room. Hannah and Anna were sitting in the living room, working on their laptops. A split second of silence while they processed the sight of Gabe with Balthazar and Meg right behind him.

“Hey,” Anna said in a small voice, and Meg broke forward with a vehement curse. Castiel lingered at the doorway while Anna disappeared under Meg’s flurry of kisses and Balthazar grabbing her shoulder. Gabe hovered at the edge, looking strained.

“No one _told_ us,” Meg kept saying. She gestured at the room at large. “No one thought to tell us that you were in a fucking car crash!”

“Gabe’s been an arse all month, and it’s only an hour ago he told us why,” Balthazar jumped in. “You should have seen us; we were about to clock him.”

“They _did_ clock me,” Gabe said in a small voice. He snatched a look at Anna, whose lips pressed together. She held out her good hand. Gabe hesitated before he came forward and took it, squeezing it hard.

“It was our fault,” Hannah said. “We’ve been trying not to get the family involved; it would—“

“Jesus, we know that!” Balthazar interrupted. “You think we’d have told anyone?”

“Here on out,” Meg said, “anyone else in this room almost effing _dies_ , the rest of us get to hear about it.”

Things only devolved from there, Balthazar demanding to know the details of Anna’s recovery and how they could help. Neither were paid much more than minimum wage, but he and Meg both swore to pitch in to help pay for the medical costs. Anna kept gripping Gabe’s hand. No word was spoken of opioids.

Eventually, Castiel told them they all might as well stay for dinner. What followed was a production the likes of which only happened when Meg and a few Miltons were all in the same room, but Anna also looked the healthiest she’d been in weeks.

Afterward, while people gathered in front of the TV, Castiel was piling dishes on the countertop. He heard a creak of wood and looked up to find Meg standing at the doorway.

“Need help?”

Castiel nodded to a dishtowel hanging from his oven door. “I can wash if you dry?”

“Sure.” Meg didn’t move. “Listen, about—“

“It’s fine.” Castiel waved a hand and leaned against the countertop. “It was wrong of me to ask.”

“Okay.” Meg stuck her hands into her pockets. “But to give you your due: You’re nothing like the assholes who dump me. I shouldn’t have compared you to them.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“I’m serious.” Castiel took in Meg’s wide-eyed expression and cracked a smile.

“I am too.”

Meg bit at her bottom lip, dipping her head and letting her hair fall over her face. Then she reached out to snag the dishtowel. Castiel grabbed a sponge and a dirty plate. They talked while they worked. Castiel explained the details of the last few weeks, how he and Hannah had been half living at the hospital. He mentioned Sam, and even though Castiel stayed vague about him, a soft expression still stole across Meg’s face. They were still talking long after the dishes were done, leaning against the counter with their shoulders and hips pressed together like they had as teenagers when visiting one another’s houses. At one point, Meg raided the freezer and found a half carton of mint chocolate chip as well as a bag of cheap brownies in the pantry. They each got a spoon and sat cross-legged on the kitchen floor, spooning the ice cream up and smearing it on the brownies. It was so sweet it made Castiel’s tongue burn.

“Hey,” Meg said when their conversation washed into a lull. She held up a brownie. “It’s plain.”

It took Castiel several seconds to understand her; he exhaled hard in a laugh.

“It was the best metaphor I could come up with in the moment,” he said, leaning back.

“I like it.” Meg examined the brownie philosophically for another moment then popped into her mouth. She leaned back too, using her foot to nudge Castiel’s knee. “Sorry again.”

“Stop. We’re over that now.” Castiel pointed at her with his spoon. “Although next time you date someone who pulls that stunt on you, I’m calling in backup to beat them up.”

“Oh please; I remember you being too scared to ever land a punch on me.”

“I didn’t say I was doing the fighting, I said I’d call backup. I know people.”

Meg cracked into a smile, and she laughed.

“Okay Clarence,” she said, reaching for the carton of ice cream. “Whatever you say.”


	10. The Cat Escapes the Proverbial Bag

Life took on a new rhythm, an After Crash era. Hannah did eventually return to college, and Castiel called her most days to make sure she was managing the month of classes she had missed. He returned to work, but started spending as many days as he could spare working from home. He ferried Anna to her myriad appointments several days a week; Gabe, Balthazar, or Meg would step in if he couldn’t. Charlie and Dorothy got to visit with their massive Tupperware of cupcakes that took weeks to finish. Sam kept a polite distance at first, but Castiel eventually convinced him to stop being silly and come for dinner and to finally meet Anna.

Sam came on a Tuesday. Anna’s physical therapy ran for several hours that day, and he had to rush to get home so he’d have time to make dinner. She was quiet the entire drive home; Castiel kept waiting for her to speak first. He still felt like his sister was a minefield; he was scared of saying the wrong thing that would set her off. But she didn’t seem to have anything to say, so when they pulled into the driveway, Castiel clacked open the door and rounded the car to help her out. She could walk, but slowly. Together they shuffled into the house.

Sam arrived a little before six, and Castiel was made to stand aside while Anna gathered her reserves to take stock of him and drill him with all the questions she used on Hannah’s boyfriends. When she asked how they had met, Sam smoothly explained they had run into one another at a late-night burger joint. She didn’t seem to see how Castiel had kept his eyes on his shoes during that exchange.

“She’s like a girl Dean,” Sam said to Castiel in a low voice when they were finally released to go into the kitchen. Castiel glanced back to where Anna was easing herself back onto the couch.

“She thinks we’re dating,” he confided.

“Have you explained…?”

“I feel like there’s enough happening in her life right now before I try to explain how aro ace people work.”

“Fair.” Sam paused. “Is she completely wrong, though?” His expression was more curious than anything else. Castiel tilted his head then kissed Sam on the cheek.

“No,” he said. “Not completely.”

Dinner was taken up by Sam and Anna comparing their experiences of law school, which devolved into a debate about the merits of being a prosecutor versus a defense lawyer. All throughout, Castiel could feel Anna watching them. His initial reaction was to draw into his shell, but then when Sam passed him on his way to the bathroom, his hand brushed Castiel’s shoulder. Castiel relaxed; he told himself he had nothing to be ashamed of. When Sam returned, Castiel made a point of touching his hand and his arm more often.

Sam and Anna moved to the couch while Castiel started clearing the table. He was putting away leftovers and washing up the dishes when he caught a snatch of conversation from the living room: “…was addicted for a few months….”

He stopped. Sam’s voice was low, but his words rose in and out of being audible. Castiel took his time washing the rest of the dishes.

By the time he emerged from the kitchen, someone had flicked on the TV, and Sam and Anna were watching a cooking show. Castiel pulled out his laptop to get work done, keeping an eye on them. But the rest of the evening passed without incident.

When Sam was getting ready to leave, Anna scrawled out her phone number on the back of an envelope and thrust it into Sam’s hand. “Thanks,” was all she said.

Sam and Castiel walked out to the car, the air damp with spring against their skin.

“Can I ask?” Castiel said.

“I hope it’s okay,” Sam said. He paused by the car. “I told her I used to be an addict. That I’d be willing to talk about it. Give her some advice.”

Castiel leaned against the car and exhaled, wiping a hand down his face.

“I’m sorry,” Sam blurted. “Was I stepping out of line?”

“No,” Castiel huffed. He removed his hand and peered at Sam. “I’m so glad you’re here. That you’re able to talk to her about it; I’ve been too scared.”

Sam reached out and gathered Castiel to him. Castiel buried his face in Sam’s chest and let his body go limp.

When Castiel returned from dropping Sam off at the nearest bus stop, he found Anna curled up on the couch as per usual, a book open in her lap. She looked up when Castiel dumped his jacket into the jacket and collapsed onto the couch beside her.

“Hannah was right,” Anna said. “He’s really nice.”

“Glad you approve.”

Anna stuck a slip of paper in her book and shut it. “What are you two?” she asked.

Castiel studied the ceiling. “Close,” he said. “Not having sex. Just. People who like each other a lot. Want to be with each other.”

Anna didn’t speak immediately, flipping at the pages of her book. Her hair hung over her face, obscuring her expression.

“Is that what, um…” She paused. “What asexual people do?”

“Asexual people can still have romantic connections,” Castiel said. He was still staring at the ceiling. “If I were just asexual, we’d probably be boyfriends. But I’m also aromantic. So I’m not really interested in having a boyfriend or girlfriend either. But I still want, um, emotional closeness.”

Anna hummed. “Is Sam…?”

“Standard sexual, romantic guy.”

“So he’s okay with it?”

Castiel laughed. “So far, yeah.” He felt the old, familiar twinge in his gut and pushed himself to a stand.

“Cas.” Anna’s hand found his sleeve. Castiel looked down and saw his sister giving him a focused expression. “You’re happy. That’s all I ever wanted, okay?”

Castiel blinked, and he realized he hadn’t been prepared to hear that from her. He nodded.

***

On a Monday in early May, when Balthazar was covering Anna’s appointment, Castiel took the opportunity to slip into the office for a full day and catch up on work. Even if Linda kept assuring him he was fine, he couldn’t shake the nagging fear that if he slacked, he might show up one day with his office cleaned out.

“As if,” Charlie chided him, leaning into the office. “Where would she find as momentous a nerd to do what you do?”

“You’d be surprised.” Castiel tapped a few strokes into his keyboard. He glanced up; Charlie was still there. “Seriously,” he sighed. “I’m too busy. Sorry.”

“You need to eat.”

“I will eat. Later.”

“Should I get Linda in here to tell you point blank you’re allowed to have a lunch break?”

Castiel pursed his lips and tried to decide the likelihood of Charlie following through on her threat. He put it at 70 percent.

“Fine,” he sighed, shoving back his chair. “But we’re back in 45 minutes.”

“I’ll make it 30,” Charlie promised.

They went to the hotdog cart that sat on the corner of the street. They ate on the big marble steps, ketchup and relish dripping onto the aluminum wrappers they’d spread on their laps.

“So where’s Sam been?” Charlie asked, licking mustard from her fingers. “Usually he’s way better at dragging you outside.”

“Final exams are coming up,” Castiel said. “Last ones of law school. He’s going through the regular freak outs.” He grinned, his nose scrunching. “When we sleep together, I hear him recite cases in his sleep.”

“Oh my _god_.”

“What?”

“You guys sleeping together,” Charlie said. “Like, _sleeping_ sleeping together. You’re too friggin’ cute.”

“Shut up,” Castiel protested, but he was grinning too hard to give the words any weight. They finished their hotdogs but lingered on the steps, enjoying the warm breeze and gentle sun. Castiel thought of the last time he and Charlie had sat on these steps; it felt like a lifetime ago.

“Hey, Charlie,” he said.

“Hm?” Charlie had leaned back, her eyes closed and her face tipped toward the sun.

“Do you know of any people like me and Sam? Someone ace and aro and someone normal?”

“You’re normal,” Charle said automatically. She lowered her face and squinted over at him. “What are you worried about?”

“It can’t last.”

Charlie sighed. “I already gave this advice. Talk to him about it, ya dingus.”

Castiel gave a put-upon expression. Charlie laughed.

***

A week later, after some negotiations, Anna agreed to stay with Meg for a few days while Castiel drove to Hannah’s college to help her move out of her dorm room. The situation with the roommates had become frigid enough, Hannah reported, that they all avoided one another.

“It’s for the better,” she said while she ripped her posters down from the walls. “I’m done with them. I can’t wait to get into this apartment.”

They managed to cram Hannah’s things into Castiel’s car, and after some arguing, agreed to try and drive through the night so they wouldn’t have to pay for a motel.

The green digital clock said three in the morning, and Hannah was driving, when Castiel’s phone rang with Sam’s number.

“Sam?” Castiel said, his voice rough with lack of sleep. “You okay?”

Sam’s breathing was uneven. “I, um.” He cleared his throat. “I screwed up.”

Castiel sat up straighter in his seat, his heart sinking. “What happened?”

“I’m somewhere a few miles outside town,” Sam said. “Some big party I was working. I thought I had a ride back but they left without me realizing and no one wants to drive me back until tomorrow, but I have an exam at seven in the morning, Cas.” Sam exhaled shakily. “I’m so sorry, I keep asking you to save my ass, but—“

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s just…” Castiel squinted at the mile markers lining the highway. “I’m two states away right now. I’m with Hannah. I was picking her up from college.”

Silence thundered over the line.

“Sam?”

“Okay.” Sam cleared his throat. “Okay. I’m sorry for bothering you.”

“Don’t hang up,” Castiel ordered. “I can call someone in town to come get you.”

Sam didn’t answer for a long while. “I don’t want them to know,” he said. Castiel clenched his teeth but didn’t speak; Hannah was looking over too often as it was.

“Is there anyone who already…”

“I called those options. Nil.”

Castiel selected his next words carefully. “It’s not like it has to be obvious what you were—“

“I don’t want to risk anyone figuring it out.” Sam shifted the phone.

“What about Charlie? She won’t—“

“Not Charlie.”

“Would you quit cutting me off?”

Sam exhaled hard. “I’ll find something,” he said.

“Sam—“ The phone beeped.

“Something happen?” Hannah asked.

Castiel scowled at his phone. “Just a bad decision,” he said.

He jabbed out a text to Sam.

_‘Honestly, why are you working the night before a final exam?’_

No answer.

_‘We’ll be in the city in about three hours. We can probably get you to class before the exam.’_

No answer.

_‘Can you please talk to me??’_

_‘I can’t afford to turn down jobs right now. I think I have a ride. Stop worrying.’_

_‘Are you lying?’_

No answer.

***

Castiel dropped Hannah off at his house then sped to the university. Sam hadn’t answered any of his calls or texts, and the gnawing anxiety in Castiel’s gut had blown into full-on panic.

He pulled up alongside the curb in front of the main building where he knew Sam had most of his classes. He sat there for nearly an hour and a half, his fingers rattling against the steering wheel. Around 8:30, a slow trickle of students emerged. Castiel craned his neck to see all of them; he made a ragged exhale when he spotted Sam. He looked worse for the wear, his hair limp and his eyes bleary. He jumped when Castiel laid on the horn. Castiel saw him hesitate before he made his way to the car. This made something inside Castiel snap with sheer frustration.

“For fuck’s sake, don’t ever do that again,” Castiel said in a high-pitched voice the moment Sam slid into the seat. “At least text me to let me know you’re okay.”

Sam laid his hands on his jeans and blinked, then dragged his eyes up to look at Castiel. His heart sank; Sam looked wrecked. Castiel leaned over and grabbed Sam, guiding his head to his shoulder. Sam collapsed into him and shuddered with frayed nerves.

“I didn’t have a pencil,” he muttered into Castiel’s shoulder. “I came in ten minutes late with no pencil and my stupid tight jeans.”

Castiel brought up a hand to sift through Sam’s hair. His chest ached.

“You need to be more careful,” he said.

Sam tugged away. “I needed the money.”

“What if I lend you cash?”

Sam gave him a dour expression. “You’ve got Anna’s bills,” he said, and Castiel deflated with the knowledge that Sam was right. His bank account was looking pitiful these days.

“Well then why do I have to be the only person who knows? Why do you have to keep your whole life separated? Like it’s such a secret?”

Sam made a rough laugh.

“You don’t understand most people.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Most people have way more negative reactions to finding out someone’s a hooker. Believe me, I made the mistake once. I’m not doing it again.”

Castiel burned with the desire to say something else, but Sam looked ready to drop dead and Castiel’s mind was already foggy with sleeplessness. So he sighed, turned the ignition, and pulled the car from the curb.

He drove them to his house and wouldn’t let Sam leave until they’d eaten and slept for a few hours, buried together under the comforter with their legs intertwined while Hannah unpacked her things into the living room.

***

Castiel didn’t bring up that night again, the same way he didn’t bring up the night that Sam’s things had been stolen. It rankled him, but he was kept busy enough with work and Anna. She had made remarkable progress on her physical therapy, and was able to move around the house with barely any help. She started talking about moving back into her apartment, maybe letting Hannah live with her to help her when she needed it.

“Naomi knows something’s up,” Anna said during dinner one night. “I’ve been keeping her and Hael at arm’s length for the past few months, but there’s only so many times I can cite ‘work is busy’ before they start snooping. Best to get back to normal.”

Castiel and Hannah caught one another’s eyes before looking down again. Castiel was sure they were wondering the same thing: whether Anna _could_ go back to normal at this point. Whether she still had a job.

A few days later, Castiel volunteered to bring Anna to a check-up with Kali. Anna was in the office for nearly an hour, and when she emerged, she was even paler than usual. She approached him, clutching her purse strap.

“We need to talk,” she said.

They went to a nearby coffee shop and found a relatively private table by the restrooms. Anna kept her eyes on her coffee.

“I’ve just been suspended,” she said. “I never told you guys, but the hospital administration did an investigation once it became clear I had mepadepherine in my system. They have proof that I’d been stealing from the hospital. Some people saw me.” She snorts. “I’d be fired if a bunch of the nurses didn’t lobby for me. I’m going to have to buy them all chocolates.”

It was strange, but hearing Anna confirm the suspicions was worse than Castiel had expected. His innards twisted.

“They’re willing to give me my job back if I can prove I’m clean.” She inhaled. “I’m probably addicted. I’ve been kicking the can down the road, see, because my injuries were bad enough they couldn’t just _not_ give me painkillers. And I shouldn’t need them anymore but I’ve been able to keep convincing them to write me one more prescription, to put off seeing a specialist for one more week. Kali’s decided to put her foot down. She’s set me up to see this specialist tomorrow. A therapist will probably be right behind that; Kali thinks I have depression. So I’ll keep needing rides down here.”

“Yeah,” Castiel said. “Of course.”

Anna blew at a strand of hair falling into her face. “You know, I was managing this just fine until I hit that fucking telephone pole.”

“Not managing it _that_ well,” Castiel murmured. “You hit a fucking telephone pole.”

Anna snorted. “Dumbass,” she said. She tightened her grip on her cup. “Sam says people think the hardest thing is the withdrawal, but they’re wrong. He says the hardest thing for him was having to look himself in the eye and consider that he loved the high more than he loved his family. And I feel like that’s me right now, trying to decide if I want the high more, or if I want my job and my family back.”

“We’re not leaving,” Castiel said.

Anna scowled. “Listen, I see the effects of addiction, full frontal. It’s ugly as all hell. We’d reach that point eventually if I keep doing this. I _want_ to stop, it’s just.” She shook her head; her voice was tight. “It’s going to be hard.”

“Yeah, but you’ve got backup,” Castiel said.

Anna offered a stiff smile before she lost hold of it. “I hate that you have to see all this,” she said. “I hate that I can’t be a big sister for Hannah. I hate that I disappointed Gabe. And I.” Her voice shook. “I feel like I’ve let down mom and dad.”

“No,” Castiel hushed, reaching over to grab her hand. “No, never that. They’d be proud of you.”

“For what, being an addict?”

“For choosing to face it.”

Anna snorted. Her hands were shaking. “Ever since dad…I used to have these flashbacks of when he was having that heart attack. Him on the floor. I had no idea what to do. A year of med school didn’t do jack for him. Sometimes, in the ambulances, we’d have heart attack victims that looked like someone’s dad and I’d be this close to losing it.” She shook her head incrementally. “That’s why I started taking the pills. It muted the flashbacks; I felt like I could breathe again.” She grimaced. “Should have known. It was like sticking a Band-Aid on a tumor. A poisoned Band-Aid. Dripping in, I dunno. Venom.”

Castiel tilted his head. “I’m sorry that we didn’t realize what you were going through.”

“You don’t have to say that.”

“I do. Hannah and I were so used to you being our pseudo mom that we didn’t consider you’d lost a dad, too. We were selfish.”

Anna shrugged, ran her fingers along her coffee cup. “I didn’t want you to know,” she said. “So part of the blame’s on me. But thanks.”

Castiel remained silent; the coffee shop bustled around them.

“You know.” Anna tossed her hair from her eyes. “I’m going to have to spill the beans to the family, and soon. I can’t hide all this forever.”

“Michael—“

“Will have to deal with it,” Anna cut in. “He’s going to tell me I’m a disappointment and a waste, but he can go suck an egg, honestly. I’m done with him.”

“Ah.” Castiel smiled. “That’s the Anna I know.”

“Thanks. It’s gonna be a hell of a ride.”

“I’m getting good at those.”

***

Sam’s graduation ceremony fell on a Saturday in June that smelled like hot cement. Castiel was sitting with Dean, Lisa, Ben, Jo, Ellen, Bobby, and Charlie, and he roared with them when Sam strode across the stage. Dean was pumping his fist and jumping up and down, and Castiel saw his eyes glittering.

Pictures took a few hours, and Castiel blushed when Sam tugged him in for photos of just them. Then the group trooped to a nearby restaurant and passed around Sam’s diploma while ordering too much food.

Bobby, Ellen, and Jo had to start driving back that night, and Lisa needed to take Ben home. That left Dean, Sam, Charlie, and Castiel to their own devices, ranging across the city from bar to bar. Dean and Charlie quickly got embroiled in a heated drinking contest while Sam and Castiel took bets on who would fall first.

Halfway through the night, they stumbled into a smallish bar that wasn’t too classy but had clean bathrooms. It took Castiel a moment to recognize it as the Cage. A glimmer of a suspicion grew in his mind, and sure enough, a few seconds later he caught sight of three familiar figures on the stage. Meg, Balthazar, and Gabe were doing one of their regular covers. He should have thought of this; they always did Saturday gigs here. He was still debating whether to usher everyone out of the bar when Meg caught his eye and waved furiously. He waved back, a little less furiously.

Dean, Charlie, and Sam had disappeared in the direction of the bar when the song finished. Castiel pushed through the morass of people hoping to spot them. A moment later, a hand wrapped around his arm.

“Hey, you!” Meg said, shouting to be heard. “Didn’t know you’d be here!”

“Hi,” Castiel tried to smile back. He glanced around the crowd again. There, he could see Charlie’s hair. “I’m here with Charlie and Sam and his brother. Sam just graduated.”

“Oh, hey, good for him!”

“Listen, please don’t let on what Sam does,” Castiel said in a low voice. “Dean doesn’t know, and Sam prefers it that way.” Meg’s eyebrows rose, but she shrugged.

“Yeah, okay. Not my business.” She paused, her eyes widening. “Oh, shit. Ruby’s here, though.”

It took Castiel a few seconds to understand what Ruby had to do with anything, but it hit him like a truck.

“Oh, shit,” he echoed, and turned to where he’d seen Charlie. He tugged Meg after him, weaving past bodies. When he got the bar, Dean was turning away with glasses.

“Hey,” Dean greeted him. “I ordered for you; Bud okay?”

“Um, yeah.” Castiel darted a look around.

“Who’s your friend?” Dean continued.

“This is—“

“Sam?”

His heart sank right into his shoes. Castiel turned just in time to see Ruby, Gabe, and Balthazar approaching where Sam leaned against the bar. Sam’s expression had grown blank.

“I can’t believe it!” Ruby laughed. “How’re you?” Before he could answer, she turned to Gabe and Balthazar. Castiel made an abortive sound when she said, “This is the guy I told you to get for Cas’ birthday!”

“You’re Sam the hooker?” Balthazar enthused. “No way!” He punched Sam’s arm. “Mate, you cost us an arm and a leg.”

Castiel’s insides were frozen. He could see Dean and Charlie out of the corner of his eye, but he didn’t want to turn toward them properly. Sam looked like he was trying to smile back but was having a hard time of it. Suddenly, from behind him, Meg came barging forward.

“Hey, we’ve only got a five minute break ‘till we’re back on stage,” she barked. “C’mon, you can socialize later.”

“Meg, it’s the giant hooker,” Gabe told her.

“Yeah, sure.” Meg started ushering them away, glancing back at Castiel with a wild expression. He nodded back in thanks.

“What’s up with you?” Ruby said before she disappeared into the crowd. Sam’s shoulders slumped. Castiel gathered up the courage to turn his head. Charlie’s eyebrows had disappeared into her hairline, both hands clutching her beer bottle. She caught Castiel’s eye and made a, _what the fuck just happened?_ expression. Castiel looked past her to Dean. He was staring at Sam with the hardest expression Castiel had ever seen on a person. He almost shrank back despite himself.

Slowly, Dean set his glasses on a nearby table. He took a few steps forward and touched Sam’s arm. Sam jerked; Castiel could see his eyes squeezing shut. Dean said something inaudible. Sam nodded and turned, and together they started to make their way to the back of the bar. Castiel and Charlie didn’t move until they’d disappeared.

“What. The fuck.” Charlie hurried over to Castiel. “The fuck,” she said again.

“Sam is a sex worker,” Castiel said in a thin voice. “He’s the one Gabe and Balthazar and Meg hired for my birthday.”

“ _That’s_ how you guys met?” Charlie’s eyes widened even more. “Jesus, what’re the chances—” She stopped. “Oh. Dean didn’t know that.” Castiel shook his head. Charlie craned her neck, but the Winchesters had already gone. “Oh man,” she said. “Oh _man_.” She stared back to Castiel. “Are they going to fight or something?”

“I don’t know.” Fresh fear surged in Castiel’s chest, and he pushed past Charlie in the direction the brothers had gone. He spotted an emergency exit door and made for it; he could feel Charlie hurrying to catch up.

“Hang on,” she called. “Cas, let them sort it out first. You don’t want to step in the middle of…whatever they’re doing.”

“I won’t step in,” Castiel called back, and pushed open the door. He stumbled into a narrow alley. The door swung shut, and the sounds of the Cage cut off.

“—as if I don’t have the right to know—“

“Dean, I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d react like this!” Sam shouted back, his voice echoing against the brick. “I’m sorry, but I needed steadier income and it wasn’t going to come from stocking shelves or from you loaning it to me. I’m an adult. I know how to handle myself!”

“I don’t fucking care!” Dean snarled. “You think adults can’t get drugged? You think the whole world doesn’t shit on people who do that work? How d’you think I’d feel if I got a call about my brother being raped and murdered by some sicko?”

“Listen, I know it goes against every hyper-masculine standard you have in your—“

“Christ, Sam, shut up.” Castiel shrank by the door as Dean took a step back and rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. But the brothers were far enough away and absorbed enough in each other not to notice him. When Dean spoke again, his voice was cracked. “I _know_ what people do to hookers,” he said. “Sam, I _know_.”

“What’re you—“

“How d’you think we had food all those times dad was on a bender?”

Abruptly, with a sick twist in his gut, Castiel wished to god he wasn’t listening. He wanted to escape into the bar again, but he was afraid any movement would draw attention. He remained where he was, frozen.

Sam stared. He didn’t speak for almost a full minute. “I thought we had savings.” His voice was small.

“Yeah,” Dean grunted. “Dad was the type to save up.” He placed his hands on his hips, bent his head. He was a silhouette. “It wasn’t often, only when we were desperate. There was this gas station down the block; I could usually find someone around there.”

Sam swallowed audibly. “How old were you?”

Dean was silent.

“Dean.”

“First time, I was twelve.” Dean sniffed, shifted on the pavement. “Last time, I was nineteen.”

Sam’s back was pressed against the wall. Dean had on a hunted expression. Castiel wanted to die.

“I didn’t—“

“Yeah, and you weren’t supposed to,” Dean bit out. “So don’t feel sorry for me, or I’ll kick your ass.”

“You were a kid.” Sam sounded close to tears.

“Yeah, okay.” Dean squared his shoulders. “Point is, the world’s full of sons’a bitches, Sammy. People who want to hurt you and are gonna enjoy it, ‘cause they’re monsters. And the last thing, the _last_ thing I wanted was for you to have to meet them.”

Castiel broke. He turned, not caring if they knew he’d been eavesdropping, and pushed back into the bar. Charlie was there, her mouth a small ‘oh’ of surprise. Meg, Balthazar, and Gabe were performing again. Everything felt far away.

“Cas?” Charlie’s hands were on his shoulders. Castiel shook his head, pushing for the front of the bar. Charlie followed. They emerged into a crowd of people waiting for taxis. Charlie led them to a low bench, guided him to a sit. She sat with him, hands on his shoulders, while he bent over and sobbed.

***

The next morning was a wreck. Hannah and Anna asked three or four times each what the hell had happened last night, Anna adding that she’d go “mess anyone up who needs it.”

“Easy tiger; you just got that cast off,” Hannah had said, giving Castiel a sharp look over Anna’s shoulder. Castiel sequestered himself in his bedroom for the rest of the day.

He dragged himself to work the next morning and found Charlie waiting for him outside his office. Before he could say anything, she rushed up to tug him down for a long hug. He splayed his hand across her shoulder blades and ducked his face into her shoulders.

“You talked to Sam yet?” Charlie asked once they were in his office. Castiel slowly set his bag and coat on the ground and collapsed into his chair.

“No,” he said. “What do I say? ‘Sorry I outed you and then eavesdropped on you and your brother talking about…’” He faltered.

“Well, I don’t know how much blame you should take for the first part. How sensitive was the stuff you heard?”

“Very sensitive. I don’t feel comfortable telling you, Charlie, it’s—“

“No, no, I know.” Charlie waved her hands like she was trying to get rid of a stench. “I’m not asking for that. I’m just saying, like, can you legally get in trouble for not reporting what you heard?”

“What?” Castiel blinked. “Oh, no. No, I didn’t hear a…a confession to murder or something like that. No.” He ran a hand through his hair. “It was um. Just personal. And heartbreaking.”

Charlie hummed, reaching out to toy with the stone alpaca Sam had given him. Castiel kept his eyes fixed on it and wondered, bleakly, if they’d ever have the chance to exchange gifts again.

Charlie eventually had to attend to her own duties, though she promised to check in again later that day. Castiel spent the next few hours picking through reports and emails and letting most of it gloss over him.

The text came in early afternoon. He didn’t hear the chime at first. He only realized he’d been messaged when he grabbed his phone to check the time and saw a notification pulsing on his screen. It was a picture showing an anemic Second Crusade exhibit. Castiel bolted up from his desk and was out the door before he could let his misgivings stop him.

He nearly tripped when he jogged down the steps that led to the Medieval gallery. The noise made the figure sitting at the bench in front of the display case turn around. Castiel straightened and tugged at his shirt. He approached with soft footfalls that murmured against the walls. The gallery was empty; Mondays were never busy.

“Hi,” Sam breathed when Castiel drew near enough to hear him. Castiel’s throat was rapidly narrowing. He lowered himself on the bench beside Sam and took his hand. He squeezed hard enough for his fingers to ache.

“I’m so sorry,” he said.

Sam exhaled a thin stream of air; a curtain of hair fell over his eyes. They didn’t speak for a long while. A few guests filtered through, but none lingered. Castiel didn’t let go of Sam’s hand.

“Here,” Sam said. He used his free hand to fish a folded piece of paper from his front pocket. He handed it over. “It’s from Dean.” Castiel stared at the paper and didn’t reach for it. “He’s too emotionally constipated to tell you even this to your face.” Sam nudged Castiel’s arm with the paper. “Come on, I promised you’d read it.”

Castiel accepted the paper; it looked like it had been ripped out of a spiral bound notebook. He unfolded it carefully, the paper crackling between his fingers. The letter wasn’t long, written in blue ink with a pen that had been pressed down hard enough to create indents on the opposite side of the paper.

 

_Cas,_

_I was sort of pissed that you heard that, but I’m okay with it now. Sam trusts you so I guess I do, too. Thanks for being there for him._

_Dean_

Castiel lifted his eyes to Sam. “You have to believe me,” he said. “I never meant to intrude. I was worried.”

“Yeah, that’s what I figured.” Sam shifted on the bench. “That’s what I told Dean. It’s okay.”

Castiel frowned. “Nothing about this is okay.” He hesitated. “How ruined is everything?”

Sam shrugged. “Contrary to what I said before, Dean can’t physically stop me from doing anything.”

“But?”

“Jesus, Cas.” Sam’s shoulders collapsed. “Dean…I remember, when I was around eight, he’d leave me at home and be gone for a few hours at night. I was always mad that he was probably having fun without me.” He shuddered. “He was twelve, Cas.”

The thing in Castiel that had broken in that alley cracked again. He leaned his head against Sam’s upper arm. Sam kept shuddering; his grip on Castiel grew firmer.

“What the fuck is wrong with the world?” Sam croaked. “Why did people see a kid in that situation and not help him? Why did my dad beat him around?” He crushed Castiel’s fingers in his hand. “Why would a bunch of assholes steal my stuff just because they thought it’d be funny? Why do I always have to worry about being drugged or worse by the people paying me to be there? Why do people treat each other like such shit? As if there aren’t enough awful things in the world like house fires and car crashes and drugs to screw everyone up?”

Castiel turned his head to bury his forehead into Sam’s arm. The bridge of his nose tingled. Sam exhaled long and hard. The air felt still and thick, encasing them in each other. When Sam spoke again, it made Castiel’s heart jump in surprise.

“’m not mad about what happened in the bar,” he said. Castiel lifted his head.

“I feel responsible.”

“Could have been any of the clients I’ve had. The city’s lousy with them.” Castiel’s mouth twisted up at one corner.

“What happens now?” he asked.

Sam placed their hands in his lap. “I guess Dean and I need to sort some things out. I’m taking a break from sex work for a while.”

Castiel tilted his head. “You sure?”

“Yeah. I need to focus on the bar exam anyway. And Dean wasn’t wrong. This work can be dangerous.” Sam ran a hand through his hair. “I dunno. I still like the work overall. I guess I have to think about what I want out of it.” He glanced to Castiel. “What’s your take?”

“What?”

“We’re partners in some way, right? I want you to weigh in on this.”

“Sam.” Castiel shook his head and exhaled a laugh. “I have no idea. Whatever you decide to do, I’ll be with you”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Castiel ran his thumb over Sam’s. “How about this, though. I do want you to be safe. So when you start working again, _tell_ me if someone treats you the wrong way. That night when those kids stole your things. I was being eaten alive with needing to help you and not knowing how to do it. I hate when you hide that part of your life, as if you’re ashamed.”

“C’mon, Cas,” Sam said in a low voice. “Sex work isn’t exactly on the list of ideal careers. There’s a reason I worked so hard to keep it separate.”

Castiel drummed his heels against the floor. “Fine,” he said. “But let me beat someone up if they’re asking for it.”

Sam looked on the verge of grinning. “You gonna be my knight?”

“I’ll bring Meg and my sisters. You ever seen them in a brawl?”

“No. Do they fight dirty?”

Castiel leaned in and pressed a kiss to the corner of Sam’s mouth.

“They do for family,” he said.


	11. The Events Nine Months Later

Castiel’s 29th birthday blew in with a winter weather advisory and a wind chill somewhere south of freezing, but that couldn’t have stopped any of them from trekking to the Cage. It had been recently expanded, and when Sam and Castiel entered the front door, they almost didn’t recognize it. The stage had nearly doubled in size, and a jumble of chairs and tables had been situated in front of it. The doors had just been opened to the public, so the place was still relatively empty. Sam and Castiel chose their seats near the front and propped their feet up on empty chairs.

“Hey, guys,” Gabe called over from where he was untangling wires. “You want to help, or…?”

“You’ve got it,” Castiel assured him. Gabe flipped him the bird and disappeared behind the stage, where Castiel was sure the rest of the band was taking pre-show shots. It was a ritual, he’d been told.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Castiel asked, leaning over far enough that his shoulder bumped Sam’s.

“Are they going to sing for you?”

“Oh. Probably, but that’s not it.” Castiel grinned. “I think Charlie’s going to propose.”

“What?” Sam jerked back and smiled open-mouthed. “Seriously?”

“Don’t tell anyone!” Castiel hushed. “It’s just an educated guess.”

“How educated?”

“I saw the ring. It’s a very nice ring.” He lifted his head. “Oh, shush, shush, Dorothy’s here.” Castiel and Sam twisted around to see Lisa, Dean, Hannah, Anna, and Dorothy coming through the doors. A round of greetings and scraped chairs followed, and soon their group was chattering loud enough to fill the bar.

The bar grew more and more crowded over the next hour. Heaven’s Devils had managed to gain a small following over the past few years, despite their lack of a bass guitarist for a few months. The hope was that this would prove the beginning of the band’s renaissance.

A little after six, the band came out to take their usual positions: Balthazar on drums, Gabe on the keyboard, Meg on vocals and lead guitar, and now Charlie with a bass guitar and a wide smile.

“HEY CHARLIE!” Sam bellowed, waving his arms like a man on a sinking ship.

“Hi, sweetie!” Dorothy called out, making a bit less of a spectacle. Charlie gave them finger guns.

They launched into a cover from Led Zeppelin and the bar settled into a comfortable susurrus of conversation.

“They sound _good_ ,” Dean observed, one hand clutching a beer bottle and the other tangled with Lisa’s.

“With the number of hours they’ve been using up Cas’ garage, they’d better,” Sam said, reaching for the appetizer platter they had ordered. He nodded to Dorothy. “How’s it been for you? Bands can be a time sink.”

“Oh, no, she loves it,” Dorothy grinned. “She mutters fingerings when she’s getting ready for bed. It’s cute.”

The conversation devolved into other avenues, into Sam’s job offer with a local law firm, Hannah officially switching her major to biology so she could eventually go into nursing school, Dean’s promotion at the garage where he worked, Anna celebrating being clean for a whole year, and the newest exhibit that was taking over Castiel’s and Charlie’s lives. It lasted well into the evening, up until the band’s last song.

“Hey, hey, thanks, guys!” Meg called out to the whooping crowd. “In case you hadn’t noticed, we had a new face tonight.” She gestured. “Say hey to Charlie Bradbury, our new and hopefully long-time bass guitarist.” Charlie played a riff while the bar gave a collective cheer. “And,” Meg continued drawing the word out. “I think Charlie’s got a small announcement.”

Sam grabbed Castiel’s hand under the table, squeezing hard enough to make Castiel’s knuckles crack.

“Thanks, guys,” Charlie said, letting her guitar fall to his side. She grabbed the microphone and looked over the crowd. “So, I won’t bore you too long, since none of you know me. Though I hope that changes pretty quickly.” Her eyes lingered over the table where their group was crammed. “I just gotta single two people out tonight. One, my favorite coworker, Cas. Happy birthday, man.” The bar gave scattered applause, and Castiel grinned up at Charlie. “And two, I’m gonna ask my gorgeous girlfriend up here.”

Dorothy’s eyes widened, and she was laughing as several hands urged her up to the stage. Meg helped her up, Charlie stepped away from the microphone and handed her guitar back to Gabe. Dorothy had her mouth fluttering over a wide smile when Charlie got down on one knee. When Dorothy said yes, the whole bar erupted.

Afterward, they all moved to a larger table to accommodate everyone. Dorothy showed off her ring, letting it catch the light. Charlie had her arm around her waist and looked the happiest Castiel had seen her in a long time.

As the night wound down, people began to disperse. Everyone had things to do tomorrow. Life had to continue.

Castiel and Sam left together, just before the bar closed. They bid Meg goodbye in the parking lot. She kissed Castiel on the cheek and said she hoped he’d had a good birthday. He promised he had.

The drive home was slow; the roads had begun to grow icy. When they entered the house, stamping their feet against the cold, Castiel complained that the thermostat must be broken because no way was it set at 70.

“It feels fine,” Sam said, tossing his shoes in their regular spot and hanging up his coat.

“Sure, it feels fine to you,” Castiel said around chattering teeth. “You’re a space heater.”

“Come on, then, I’ll space heat the bed.”

Sam disappeared into the bathroom to brush his teeth, leaving Castiel in the bedroom. He kept glancing back at the bar of yellow light beneath the door as he dug through his closet and pulled out a new leather briefcase with a yellow bow on it. He put it on the bed where it couldn’t be missed then went into the kitchen to prepare hot water bottles.

When he returned, Sam was on the bed with the briefcase on his lap. He looked up, his eyes wide.

“Did you—“

“It was on sale,” Castiel promised, climbing into the bed with the water bottles. “I figured you need to look like a real lawyer before you go in the office.”

“Cas,” Sam said in a sigh, shaking his head. He had a smile fighting through his lips. “I think you misunderstand the principle behind birthday presents.”

“This isn’t a birthday present,” Castiel said. “It’s a second-anniversary-of-us-meeting present.”

Sam didn’t try to hide the smile this time. “You’re such a sap,” he said. He leaned over and kissed Castiel’s forehead. “Thanks.” He set the briefcase on the floor and burrowed under the covers. Castiel followed him with the water bottles. When they’d settled down, Castiel’s head pillowed on Sam’s shoulder, Sam gave off a small, wild laugh.

“Charlie’s _marrying_ Dorothy,” he said. “There’s going to be a _wedding_. I hope they’ll have Ben as the ring bearer. That’s going to be adorable.”

“Mm,” Castiel agreed, jamming his feet between Sam’s calves. “I like weddings.”

“Do you?”

“Of course.” Castiel peered up at him. “A big party where everyone celebrates two people pledging a life together? It’s beautiful.” Sam made a thoughtful sound and began running his hand up and down the back of Castiel’s neck. The motion just about tipped Castiel into sleep until Sam shifted beneath him. Castiel peered up at the underside of his face.

“Would you ever want that?” Sam asked. His tone was casual, but it sent a spike of adrenaline up Castiel’s spine.

“Would you?” Castiel hedged.

“Dunno,” Sam shrugged. “I like the symbolism of it. Like you said, it’s a promise to stand by someone.”

The silence became a heavy thing. Castiel shifted and propped his head up on one arm. “Marriages usually connote something romantic,” he said in a quiet voice. “If not something with sex.”

Sam tilted his head toward Castiel. “It wouldn’t be any different from what we do now, would it?”

“What we do now doesn’t involve the law at all. Marriages include legal things and taxes and…” He trailed off, unsure of what he was trying to say. “What we have now, it gives you an easy way out,” he said.

“An easy way—out of what?” Sam propped himself up on his arms as well. His expression had grown nettled; Castiel felt his cheeks flush.

“Just, if you ever got tired of this. You could leave without any consequences.”

“If I get _tired_?”

“C’mon, Sam, don’t act affronted.” Castiel wiped a hand down his face. “I’m just trying to be realistic. One day you might want a partner who’s, you know. More like you.”

Sam slumped back onto the mattress, his arms crossed over his eyes. He dropped his arms and looked hard at Castiel.

“Are you telling me,” he said, “that you’ve spent the last year thinking I’m waiting for a chance to leave?”

“No, I think in a year or two you’re going to be able to work full-time in law and won’t have time for sex work. And I suspect you’re going to miss it. So that means you’d have to find someone else to do that with. Because I love you very much, but I’m not…” He paused, frowning. “I guess I could try it. With you, I could try it, but I’m not sure if—“

“Cas.” Sam looked pained now, and that made Castiel’s heart lurch.

“Like, it could become an open relationship.” Castiel realized he was babbling a little. “I’d be fine with that, completely. But then I worry you’d want romantic things like nice dinners, and I can do nice dinners, but it might not be enough so at that point—“

“ _Cas_.” Sam reached out an arm and hooked it around Castiel’s neck, tugging him down. Castiel let him, his cheeks bright red. He tucked his face into the crook of Sam’s neck and inhaled, feeling monumentally stupid.

“Would you marry me?” Sam had his hand running up and down Castiel’s spine again.

Castiel squeezed his eyes. “Yes. Would you marry me?”

“Yes,” Sam replied.

Castiel shuddered. Sam laughed and shifted to press a kiss to Castiel’s temple.

“It might not work.” Castiel lifted his head.

“I guess most people who get married run that risk.”

“I guess.” Castiel examined the idea again, carefully, like it was a bubble that might pop.

“We could move in together,” Castiel said tentatively. “We would have an easier time seeing each other if one of us ended up in the hospital.”

“That’s macabre. How about, we could get a dog.”

Castiel laughed and wrapped an arm around Sam’s shoulder. “So a friend marriage?” He shook his head. “And you’d be okay with not…? Because I’m serious, I’d be fine with an open marriage.”

Sam shifted, thoughtful. “I don’t think I’d need it,” he said. “I mean, thank you for offering. And maybe I’d want to take you up on it once or twice. But Cas, I wouldn’t leave this. What we have is good.”

Castiel tightened his hold on Sam. “It is good, isn’t it?”

Sam didn’t reply, not in words. He just rolled over and tucked his head under Castiel’s. Castiel exhaled.


End file.
